The Potter of the Ages
by Anera527
Summary: Voldemort tries to rid the world of the Boy Who Lived after capturing and torturing him. He goes to the Ministry of Magic, to the archway, and there condemns him to death. But Harry Potter doesn't find himself in the Afterlife- he instead finds himself on the planet Coruscant. Harry Potter/Star Wars crossover. AU after OotP and New Jedi Order. Not a slash story!
1. Chapter 1

"_**Chapter 1"**_

A/N: I've been wanting to do a HP/SW crossover for years, and have finally gotten around to it. Just to say, this story will be dealing with the original SW characters around the Swarm War era, just AU from the Yuuzhan Vong war on. (Anakin and Chewie will still be dead, but Jacen won't be Sith and the galaxy thrown into yet another gigantic war.) Hope you enjoy it!

_~"… there was a raised stone dias in the center of the lowered floor, and upon the dais stood a stone archway that looked so ancient, cracked, and crumbling that Harry was amazed that the thing was still standing. Unsupported by any surrounding wall, the archway was hung with a tattered black curtain or veil which, despite the stillness of the cold surrounding air, was fluttering very slightly as though it had just been touched…. He had the strangest feeling that there was someone standing right behind the veil on the other side of the archway… he edge around the dais, but there was nobody there…. He did not move. He had just heard something. There were faint whispering, murmuring voices coming from the other side of the veil."~_

_~Chapter 34, "the Department of Mysteries", OotP_

It was a victorious procession that went in secret to the ministry of Magic on the eve of the summer of 1996. Finally, Lord Voldemort—the Darkest wizard Britain had seen in six centuries—had finally succeeded in his goal of the past fourteen years.

He had captured the Boy Who Lived.

Stroking his wand in delight, his snake Nagini wrapped around his shoulders, Voldemort turned his cold red eyes onto the smallest, and youngest, person there. Standing amongst such tall, burly men all who were all dressed in black with expressionless masks hiding their faces, Harry Potter looked small and meek, almost pathetic, as he walked—or stumbled and limped was more like it—held in the Death Eaters' grasps. At fifteen years of age, he was small and slight, his wild black hair matted with blood, which ran from a cut on his hairline and crusted along his face; beneath sweat-slick bangs, pained emerald eyes still managed to glare hatefully at him, effectively chasing away the agony he was clearly in.

Voldemort felt a vindictive smile spread across his face, pleased to have caused such physical and mental pain. He had tortured Potter, had made him scream until he couldn't even speak. Blood, both dried and wet, stained his ripped clothing from the deep gashes etched into his torso; his right leg was stiff and painful from another cut in his thigh, and he was sure Potter's body ached from the Cruciatus Curses that had been set upon him.

Silently, the Dark company made its way through the large, spacious rooms and halls of the Ministry, down through the dark corridors and finally into the Department of Mysteries.

Specifically, into the Death Room, where the ancient archway still sat with its tattered black veil fluttering in a nonexistent wind. Voldemort knew that Potter would loath the room, and what its doorway stood for—what it had done—and would undoubtedly cause him an emotional agony the Dark Lord himself would never hope to cause. It was in this room that the boy had lost Sirius Black through the archway, which, as far as Voldemort knew, was a way directly into the Afterlife. Of course he would never try to discover whether that was true or not, and he certainly not going to step through himself. Nobody had ever come back through the archway, so they must have gone somewhere permanently. Voldemort liked to think it was a link to Hell—it caused him so much pleasure to think of souls screaming in pain as they burned in the lake of everlasting sulfur eternally.

Sure enough, as soon as Potter's eyes fell upon the stone archway, his eyes became shadowed with grief, looking at the thing that had led to his beloved godfather's death. There was, also, a hint of understanding there as well, and the Dark Lord realized that the boy knew what was going to happen. He could see fear swimming in those emerald eyes, exhaustion, pain, but there was also acceptance.

Potter _wanted_ to die. Voldemort had broken his will to live.

When finally all of the Death Eaters were gathered around, Voldemort stepped forward, where Potter stood before the archway, so small, so utterly helpless, and smiled. Potter flinched ever so slightly, fearing that smile, disgusted by it. To Harry, it made Voldemort's face so inhuman, so twisted and horrid, truly the stuff of nightmares. Was there even anything remotely human left in the snake-like creature standing before him?

Did it even truly matter?

"As you can see, Potter," the Dark Lord said now, and he began to circle the boy slowly, as if sizing him up. Harry watched him warily, fearful that Voldemort may do something else to his already-torn body, "I have brought you here to make a choice."

"A choice?" His voice was low and raspy, almost unrecognizable, from misuse and screaming, still wary, almost sarcastic. There was never any choice in Voldemort's propositions—it was either one thing, or nothing at all. You did not simply say "no" to the Dark Lord Voldemort. Ever.

"Of course, Potter. A choice." He chuckled, sending a shiver of fear down the young wizard's spine, and then abruptly became serious again. Deadly so. "A choice of deaths. You see this archway—I say to you that either you walk through it on your own violation, or I kill you myself in less… _quick_… means." He watched Potter flinch again, trembling at the thought of more torture. He smiled again. "So, Potter. Which will it be?"

Harry looked up in Voldemort's red eyes and knew the win-win scenario in the Dark Lord's favor—whatever he chose, it would end in a victory for the Death Eaters. Wizarding Britain would not win. He could only hope that the Order of the Phoenix would give Voldemort more of a struggle than he thought they would be able to. He wouldn't be here to help.

He hung his head, thinking about Ron and Hermione, the Weasleys, Hogwarts, all the places he knew and loved, the people who he was sure were mourning him, believing he was already dead. It hurt to remember them, knowing they would never know what had happened to him besides the fact that he had been captured. But he couldn't be too upset, thinking that if this archway was a path to death, then he would at least be with his parents and with Sirius again. Would that be such a bad thing?

He shut his eyes briefly then swallowed hard. Looked up at Voldemort. "I'll walk," he whispered softly, so quietly that he could be barely heard.

Voldemort smiled again. "Good," he hissed. He stepped aside so that Harry saw the archway. "Go on, Potter. Be with your Mudblood mother and your wretched mutt of a godfather."

The walk to the archway seemed to take forever. Harry could feel the Death Eaters' eyes upon him, his footsteps echoing eerily in the silence. He thought he could feel a cold draft caressing his face as he walked up to it and could hear the voices whispering.

Without hesitation, he stepped through.

A/N: Okay, I've gotta stop here. I don't think this chapter is in the right context of emotion. I gotta stop and get myself into the zone. I should remember not to watch the Reduced Shakespeare Company while I'm writing this—it's hard to feel sad about Harry's predicament when I'm hearing "Their fate pursues them, they can't seem to duck it, and at the end of Act 5, they both kick the bucket." Second chapter will be up soon, and Harry will find himself on Coruscant, and hopefully the emotions will be in better context. R&R!


	2. Chapter 2

"_**Chapter 2"**_

A/N: I'm so stupid. You will see Harry's wand in this second chapter, but I didn't explain how he got it—just for future reference, Voldemort tossed it through the archway before Harry stepped through. There. Now you know, and hopefully you'll forgive the writer her blatant blunder of supreme stupidity. This chap will be longer, so you have more to look forward to.

_All the world's a stage,  
And all the men and women merely players:  
They have their exits and their entrances;  
And one man in his time plays many parts._

-William Shakespeare

Everything seemed to pass in a whir. Somehow, impossibly, Harry felt a jerk very similar to a Portkey draw him forward; everything seemed to be blurred, he seemed to be spinning into nothing, until finally he realized he was in fact passing through what seemed to be images and moments in time—but in a life and universe he did not recognize. He saw strange peoples, all aliens, some with horns, others with extensions growing from their heads, others human. Some fired guns, others held staff-like weapons—and others fought with swords that shone with energy. He saw glimpses of wars, of times of peace. Planets burned, were rebuilt, collapsed, and new were created.

This all passed in an instant, and suddenly with a terrible jolt that left him breathless, Harry felt himself thrown forward, almost like whatever it was that held him had snapped. Everything went black for a moment, and he floundered in the crushing oblivion, unable to cry out or make a sound, before finally falling into a dim light that seemed fuzzy and unclear. He felt more than heard the impact of the ground—his hearing seemed to have been jumbled by whatever he had passed through. The breath left his body in a jolt, and he couldn't even scream as the pain of his wounds flared, shooting along his bones, as his lungs seized in his chest. For a long moment, he couldn't do anything but lay there in a senseless shock, feeling his heart flying in his throat but unable to do anything. Finally, though, he fought through the agony of his body and thrust it aside. This couldn't possibly be the Afterlife—he didn't think it would be this painful, and besides, he didn't _feel_ dead.

Where was he?

Gasping, panting for air, he struggled weakly up on his hands and knees, looking around. His eyesight was clearing, even if his head was still pounding and his ears were ringing. He seemed to be in a run-down hovel lit by dirty sunlight shining through shattered windows, deserted by everyone and everything. Gathering his waning strength, wondering what he had gotten himself into, he dragged himself up on shaky legs and managed to limp out of the small shack, noticing with shock the surrounding buildings. They didn't look like anything he had seen before, even if most were crumbling and covered with strange yellow ivy crawling up the walls. Everywhere he looked he saw city, and not just this small section of old town. There were tall steel skyscrapers reaching up far into the sky, consisting of hundreds upon thousands of floors, glinting in the sunlight of a large golden sun that was clearly beginning its descent in the sky. But it was what was in the air that made him gape and wonder if he had, in fact, finally lost his mind.

There were car-like structures actually flying through the alleyways skyscrapers, millions of them as far as he could tell, all like Muggle cars on a street- except these were_ flying_! It seemed that these things were perfectly natural, since no one seemed shocked by this occurrence, but he nearly lost his ability to stand as he realized—

He had no idea where he was. This couldn't be the Afterlife, this wasn't natural, not human.

"Son?"

The deep, gravelly voice caused him to spin on his heel, gasping as his body exploded in pain again, and came face to face with an alien face. It was a male as far as he could tell, but its skin was a light red, with dark bluish-black hair and dark black eyes. He was dressed in a smart, military-issue outfit colored a dark blue and calf-length leather boots. Harry stumbled back a step, his eyes widening in shock.

The man frowned, and started to reach for him. "Son, if you need some help—"

But then he recoiled with a cry, for Harry, having realized he had his wand in his possession, had drawn it and aimed a Stinging Jinx at the soldier. He was frightened, confused, and didn't want to have anyone touching him, and the pain of his body threw all caution to the winds. Even as the alien drew back in shock, he turned again and ran as best as he could with his stiff leg.

The soldier, astonished and angered, drew out his comlink. "Attention, all Guards in Sections 800 to 810, we have a young human, male, badly injured, running through the Undercity. Orders to all who happen to find him—restrain, but do not harm. Warning—the male _has a weapon_!"

00000000

There was a ripple of unrest in the Force. Something had upset its balance, as if a door had opened and then swung closed just as quickly. There was a presence out there among Coruscant's citizens that had not been there before. Even from here, fear and pain could be sensed pouring into the Force, boiling in its intensity. Not Sith, not even totally Dark, just… _human_. Simple human instinct.

It was worrying.

Seated in the meditation chambers of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, Grand Master Luke Skywalker of the Jedi opened his eyes, frowning in concentration and confusion. He thought he was probably the only Jedi who could sense the emotions, since they were so faint, and since he was better at sensing emotion than most. It had him concerned, why he didn't exactly know. Was it the Force telling him that he had to do something? Or was it only his own thoughts pulling him in different directions? Should he send out a team of Jedi Knights to go find this mysterious person?

No. He ruled that possibility out. If Coruscant's military guard needed help, they would call. Jedi were not called for simple capture—they were not a police force, however much some senators seemed to think so. He could only wait.

Besides, he had other things to worry about, like the newest missions for the Knights and Masters, of Cal Omas's growing distrust of the Jedi, and of what he was going to do about his son Ben joining the flying squadrons a little over a month ago. Ben had wanted to go, even more than he had wanted to train as a Jedi, and so Luke and his wife Mara, determined to let their son grow into his choices, had allowed him to. Luke seriously hoped that the choice would not lead to evil later.

He sighed. He needed to stop becoming so stressed—soon he would become more grey-headed than blonde if he didn't calm down more. Of course, ever since blasting out of Mos Eisley spaceport almost thirty years ago, he had felt that time had never slowed down. He found it surprising that he was even almost fifty at times, sure that he should have died multiple times over the years.

He felt a familiar presence come up to his door, and he turned in time to find Corran Horn, one of the most experienced Jedi Masters there, standing breathless. "Master Skywalker," he said hurriedly, "I apologize for my interruption…"

"What is it, Master Horn?"

Corran shook his head. "The Guard sent the Jedi word—there's a rogue human male causing trouble in the Underworld levels. They can't get close enough to him to stop him, and he's becoming dangerous."

Luke stood, feeling his gut tighten as he recalled the fear and pain he had felt through the Force. "I'll gather some of our best Masters and we'll go help. Will you prepare our speeders?"

"Yes, Master Skywalker."

"Good. Go, quickly." And as Corran turned and left at a run, Luke turned briefly to the large windows of the Temple, deep in contemplation, before he followed Corran out the door, preparing to call his wife through his comm.

000000000

The Jedi swiftly flew through Coruscant's traffic, deftly avoiding crashes and other obstacles that would have hindered ordinary drivers. They weren't called Jedi for nothing, however, so they didn't worry. Leading them was Luke and his wife Mara Jade, Luke driving, while Mara looked at him with hard emerald eyes.

"So all this is for a _kid_?"

"That's what Colonel Maxell said," Luke nodded, his eyes fixed on the traffic speeding by. "From what he told me it was a boy, probably younger than twenty, small, slight, badly injured. The Colonel found him wal- well,_ limping_ through the Undercity and when he tried to grab the boy's arm, he was attacked. The kid turned and ran. The other soldiers can't get close to him, they're being hindered by something, but they don't know by what."

Mara shook her head. "I don't like it, Skywalker. It's just too odd, even for us."

He grinned. "Who says? I can think of ten things stranger than some kid attacking Coruscant Guard." He was trying to forget the odd ripples of the Force he had felt before. It wasn't working very well, and clearly Mara saw that too, because she glared, opening her mouth to speak.

Then a tremendous _bang!_ echoed through the air, and Luke had to swerve as a man suddenly came flying into the traffic. Cursing, he turned the speeder into a roll, and Mara, ready, flung herself from her seat and onto the roof of the building that was luckily now below them. As Luke struggled to not crash, she rolled up to a crouching position and came face to face with the adversary they were supposed to fight. Before she could even draw her lightsaber, however, she heard a young voice say something and suddenly she flew backwards through the air, landing at least ten feet away on the hard stone roof, the breath knocked out of her. Even as she landed, four other Masters—Kyp Durron, Corran Horn, Saba Sabetyne, and Octa Ramis—tried to come at the stranger, but all were held back somehow by a barrier. Then Kyp and Octa fell back like Mara, while Saba attempted to circle around their opponent and Corran pressed forward.

Luke, landing the speeder behind their adversary, leaped out of it, checking to see that Mara and the others were all right. When he saw they were getting their bearings straight, he went forward, preparing to strike, when suddenly the boy turned to him, and he almost stopped mid-leap. Looking at him was a boy no older than his own son, small and thin and slight, with an unmanageable mess of blood-matted raven black hair and glasses. He looked roughed-up, all right, and beaten—his face was covered with bruises and his clothing, so odd in their pattern and faded coloring, was ripped and bloody. His pain and anger lit up the Force like a beacon. With unbelievable reflexes, the boy swung up what Luke thought to be a simple rod of wood.

"_Protego!"_

Luke braced himself for an attack, ready for defense, but to his surprise nothing came—and then he discovered what had happened when the boy had spoken. He hit a clear shield, strong yet utterly invisible, so strong his lit lightsaber could not penetrate it. Stunned, he bounced off the impossible barrier and landed on the ground in an awkward crouch, completely baffled by this unexpected occurrence. Mara, her own shock rippling through the Force, reached out to him and asked if he was all right. Luke sent her a mental nod and stood, regaining his control.

"We're not going to harm you," he said as gently as he could, unsure if the boy would even be able to understand Basic. He hoped that communication was possible—they needed to stop the rampage before someone actually got injured… or before the boy burnt himself out.

But the boy only snarled at him, his eyes bright with anger and pain. "Coming… after me with a weapon… isn't hostile?" he snapped in a weak, unsteady voice, and again Luke was surprised at how young he seemed, and how much agony he seemed to be in. He needed medical attention; the bright red stains on his clothing were spreading, and his body was trembling—his leg looked like it was going to collapse beneath him at any moment, and Luke realized they wouldn't need to worry about fighting much longer.

Sure enough, even as Luke thought that, the boy paled as the pain of his wounds caught up with him as adrenaline started to ebb, surely feeling dizzy with blood loss. The invisible barrier was flickering, weakening as well, and the Jedi Masters all tensed in preparation.

Bad mistake. The stranger seemed to sense this and his Force aura sharpened with anger again. The barrier fell and even as the Jedi moved forward, the boy swerved to the side, slipping somehow between the others, and called out another word that was garbled by the speeders going by. To the astonishment of the Jedi, ropes suddenly sprang into existence and wrapped themselves around Kyp, who cried out in anger and struggled against them. He couldn't throw them off, however, not even with the Force behind his grip. With a growl of anger, Saba leaped forward, but was thrown off by the barrier again.

But it was Mara who dealt the final blow. With the quick skills taught to her by Emperor Palpatine, she weaved through the crowd and as Saba retreated, she crept up on the boy and with a quick swipe she struck the boy on the side of his head with her lightsaber hilt.

He collapsed immediately, his legs buckling beneath him as he crumpled to the ground in a heap. As quickly as he fell, the power that the Jedi could sense dissipated like it had never been, and the Jedi Masters were left standing over the body of a kid who was hurt and bleeding.

0000000000

"The _power_ he produced!" Kyp exclaimed in shock twenty minutes later as they walked into the med center. They had left the boy in the hands of the EmDee droid there; Saba, Corran, and Octa Ramis had gone back to the Temple while Luke, Mara, and Kyp had stayed to know the boy's condition.

Luke nodded. "I know, Kyp," he said softly. "I just hope he's not too badly injured. He's so young…"

"Yet old enough to attack us," Mara countered, her eyes hard—they had been ever since she had knocked the stranger out. It was clear she was not giving him the benefit of the doubt, not like Luke was.

"He didn't actually harm us," he protested. "He only tried to protect himself—you know that, Mara!"

"Yes," Kyp interjected sarcastically, "he only used _power we know nothing about_. Come on, Master Skywalker! Even if the kid didn't actually harm us, you know that we can't take this lightly. He has power that we've never seen, that we haven't heard of before. Yeah, I can't deny he didn't actually harm us, but neither can _you_ deny that he wasn't pouring anger into the Force—which, as we all know, is a Dark emotion. He seemed to allow it to lead him—like a Sith."

Luke stiffened, and even Mara reacted negatively to such a statement. "Kyp, even if I agree that he's dangerous," she said, "I can't see him being a Sith. He didn't fight like one. I don't even think he has access to the Force at all."

"He doesn't need it."

Luke's softly-spoken statement caused both Jedi to stop speaking and simultaneously they turned to him. He wasn't looking at them—instead he sat stiffly in his seat, his brow drawn down into a frown. His Force presence was tight, and his diamond blue eyes were thoughtful as he thought. Finally:

"I don't believe he is Dark. Yes, he allowed his anger to lead him, but the point still stands that he didn't allow it to harm anyone." He shifted, and his gaze lost focused as he contemplated—or looked at a vision. "There's something about him…" he murmured, his left hand clenching slightly. "A sense of destiny…"

Mara looked sharply at him and opened her mouth to speak—

"Masters Skywalker? Master Durron?"

The automated voice of the EmDee caught their attention and they looked up at the same time to find the droid standing before them. One arm gestured in its halting way to the entrance of the room. "The patient is stable, and lucid."

"Lucid?" Mara asked, shocked. "Shouldn't his wounds have kept him unconscious for several hours, if not a couple of days?" Beside her, Luke and Kyp shared a glance.

"Yes," came the reply. "That is what is so odd, Master Skywalker. The patient should have been under for twenty-six standard hours, eight minutes, and thirty-five seconds. He woke up halfway through our exam and had to be sedated. As the Guard placed the patient under your judgment, I must ask you to come and speak with him."

"You can't just send him to sleep to keep healing him?" Kyp asked.

The EmDee's voice grew slightly cold. "No. We have tried to give him stronger sleeping medicine, but there seems to be something preventing him from being affected. I need to point out, too, that the patient seems to be rather wild. Things have been flying around in the room, and when I tried to give the patient a stronger sedative, the needle bent."

"Come again?" Luke asked, astounded. "The needle _bent_?"

"Yes. Onto itself. It has been decided that the patient cannot be helped here. We ask that you and your Order take him." There was obvious reluctance even in a droid's monotonous voice, and the three Jedi could tell even without aid of the Force that the Emdee was unhappy about discharging a patient.

Luke stood. "All right. We'll go see him."

The room the droid led them to smelled of bacta salve and antiseptics, and was as white and immaculately clean as they always were. The boy lay limply on one of the gurney-like cots there, his Force aura pulsing gently—but it was cold, shocked, as if unable to feel emotion. Luke wondered if it was because of the sedative. They were watched warily by their new charge as they approached; they were careful to keep their hands in plain view, so he didn't feel threatened. Nevertheless he tensed visibly the closer they came, until finally his Force aura twisted with quickly-suppressed fear. And curiosity. Confusion. Then it was smothered by a feeling of numbness, and the boy's eyes never showed anything.

Luke spoke first. "It seems you aren't a very good patient, son," he said quietly. He felt more than heard Mara's sarcastic snort, and could practically feel her smirk at his words. _Farmboy…_ He sent a quick blast of irritation her way, telling her now was not the time, and continued. "The Jedi have been asked to take you under our wing, so we'll need to leave soon. How are your wounds?"

The boy frowned, as if confused he was asked such a question. He didn't speak, but Luke could tell by the heavy bandages that the wounds were going to need a lot more than salve. They didn't seem to be bleeding, though, which was a very good thing.

He sighed. "What's your name, son?"

He watched the boy's eyes flash with irritation and his Force essence tightened. Finally, however: "Harry Potter." He spoke it so quietly that the Jedi almost missed it.

"I'm Jedi Luke Skywalker," Luke replied softly, and motioned to his companions, "and this is my wife Mara, and Kyp Durron, both Jedi as well."

"I'm being watched by the very people who attacked me?"

The sarcastic question caused Kyp to stiffen, but a warning glance from Luke stopped him from speaking. Mara refrained from rolling her eyes. "I'm sorry that we had to do that, Harry," Luke apologized with genuine regret, "but as Jedi we are guardians of peace and order. The Guard could not get close enough to you to stop your rampage—in which you caused many people harm and several crashes. So we were called to help. Disruption on such a scale will not and cannot be tolerated."

"All right, Skywalker," Mara interrupted impatiently, her arms crossed over her chest. "Don't go all "Jedi Master" on him, he's had a rough day. Let's just get him to the Temple and find out what the Force we're going to do now."


	3. Chapter 3

"_**Chapter 3"**_

"Where am I?"

The softly spoken question surprised the three Jedi as they walked into the Temple—they were not expecting the inquiry. Their charge had barely spoken since they'd left the medcenter; he had instead walked with them in a deep, brooding silence, his Force aura cold and elusive. He had balked at entering the speeder that the Jedi took to the Temple, looking at them suspiciouslyclearly intimidated by the sight of something flying through the air. While they had been flying, Luke had caught a burst of overwhelming sorrow shoot through the Force from the boy, and he had glanced back to the seat where he was sitting to see "Harry" swallowing back what he was quite sure were tears. Luke had not commented, choosing to allow the boy his space—besides, they would know this mystery when they got to the Temple. Mara had called ahead and assembled the Masters still planet-side, telling them a meeting was urgent. Throughout all of this, the boy had not spoken, so it came as a surprise to hear him now.

Kyp frowned from where he sat beside Harry. "What do you mean, kid?"

"I'm not a kid," he replied through clenched teeth, his eyes flashing irritably. "I'm meaning that I don't know where I am. This doesn't even look like Earth."

"Earth." Mara's voice was dubious, her eyebrows raised in a sarcastic way. "What's that?"

"The _planet_ I live on." Now the boy sounded confused, maybe a little frightened again. "Are you saying this isn't Earth?"

"It's Coruscant," Kyp replied, looking baffled. "Force, who _hasn't_ heard of Coruscant?"

"Clearly I haven't," was the sarcastic reply, and Luke half-winced, half-grinned as he glanced at Mara. This kid had her sharp tongue, something he knew you shouldn't be at the receiving end of. His wife sensed what he was thinking and sent him a nudge through their bond, telling him to listen to the conversation. He did so, in time to hear Harry say, "And clearly you haven't heard about Earth." His Force presence shifted with deepening confusion which almost masked the pain of his wrapped-up wounds. "This isn't anything like home," they heard him murmur quietly to himself. There was longing, a sense of homesickness laced in his tone, and the Jedi could tell his thoughts were clearly drifting to loved ones and friends. They had felt this before, and it never got any easier.

Mara parked the speeder inside the Temple's hanger and jumped out. "Well, we're gonna see if we can't straighten all of this out, kid. Coming, Skywalker?" Without waiting for a reply she walked off in the direction of the doors. "Master Sebatyne said that the Council has assembled."

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It was chaos in the Council Chambers. The ten or so Jedi Masters there were all speaking at once, their bafflement and disbelief permeating the Force in a roiling cloud of confusion, having heard the boy's story of how he got here—about being captured by a Dark Lord named Voldemort, told to walk through a veil, about falling through darkness and landing here on Coruscant, about running from the people chasing him, of their pursuit, and finally his confrontation with the Jedi. Unsurprisingly, even though they could sense Harry was telling the truth, the Masters found it incredibly unbelievable.

It was Luke's niece Jaina Solo, the newest member of the Council, who was the most vocal about that. "This is just too impossible, even for us!" she was exclaiming vehemently, her chocolate brown eyes glaring distrustfully at the boy where he stood before the semicircle of Masters. "People don't just drop out of space with powers we don't know anything about, claiming—"

"Enough, Jedi Solo," Luke finally said quietly, but it served to quiet the whole room. "You know as well as I do that he is telling the truth, no matter how impossible it may sound." His rebuke served to make her sink into her seat a little, knowing if she denied that she was saying the head of the Jedi Order was a fool.

And no one could call Luke Skywalker a fool.

Ignoring his niece's outburst completely now, he leaned forward, studying the boy standing before him carefully. Such a strange person—referring himself to Harry Potter, a name that sounded alien, and yet he was human, telling them the odd tale of how he got here and yet was telling the truth.

Such a strange appearance as well. In the light of the Temple, Luke could see he looked no older than seventeen, with raven-black hair that, washed of blood and dirt, was an even darker black than even Zekk's, and the oddest emerald green eyes he had ever seen. They were the clearest, purest color of green he had ever seen, even more so than Mara's, and were cold and dull like hers had been when she had been under Palpatine's last command. The bruises and half-healed wounds on his face added a dangerous, almost dark edge to the boy's appearance, and all the Jedi there could sense the pain he was still feeling. The EmDee droid had said that his ribs had been cracked and his chest a torn, bleeding mess. His Force presence still throbbed even if his face showed nothing.

"You told us that your name is Harry Potter," he said quietly, "and we cannot sense that you are lying—" he glanced warningly at Jaina, who had begun to open her mouth again, "but there is still a lot that just doesn't make sense. For starters, you say you're from "Earth", but we know nothing of such a planet in our galaxy."

"I told you," the boy replied with an air of weariness and irritation, "I don't think it's in this galaxy. I certainly have never heard of a planet called Coruscant, and my… planet always thought we were the only kind of life in the universe."

Mara leaned forward. "Then we've reached the idea of a parallel or an alternate one."

Luke looked over at her in surprise. "How do you figure that, Master Skywalker?"

She smirked. "Think about it, Luke," she said quietly. "A planet we've never heard of, a veil that is a mystery to everyone, a people we know _nothing_ about. And he says he can do "magic", something we don't have. He's never heard of the Force, and doesn't have access to I, and hasn't even heard of the galaxy's capital planet. Clearly, he's not _from_ here."

"So you're saying that the veil he was shoved through was a portal?" Kyp asked now from his seat.

"I wasn't pushed, I went through on my own," the boy snapped, suddenly angry.

Sudden silence. The entire Council looked at him in surprise, unable to believe what he had just said.

"You went through on your own violation?" Luke said, recovering first. "You willingly left your own world to go through something like that?"

"It was either that or die at Voldemort's hands," Harry replied, looking at the floor, his voice dropping to a shamed whisper. "And I really didn't like the idea of dying that way. At least going through the veil was quick."

The Jedi looked at each other, concerned by his words—even Jaina looked shaken. No child should talk about dying like it was nothing. "How old are you?" Luke finally asked, turning back to the object of his attention.

Harry looked back at him. "Almost sixteen, sir."

Almost sixteen. And in his world he was dead. Luke sat back in his seat, feeling suddenly weak from the revelation, his gut tightening. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes briefly to calm himself, and he thought he felt the Force whispering to him, saying, _"Trust him. Help him."_

He decided to do just that.

Opening his eyes again, he saw Mara looking at him in concern, but he merely shook his head and turned to Harry. "You need somewhere to go, yes?"

The boy frowned, surprised. "Yes…" he agreed slowly.

"Well, you can't fend for yourself out in Coruscant without knowing anything about it." Luke looked at all of the Council. "I think we can all agree that he needs somewhere to stay?" They nodded. "And I suppose we can all say that he can't stay at the Temple?" Again, there were nods all around. "Good. If everyone is supportive of the proposition, I say Mara and I take him under our wing until such a time comes that we can figure this all out." Again all agreed, and Luke nodded. "Very well." He stood. "Now, the Order needs some assistance at Dantooine—it seems that the plant life there is causing more trouble there than is wise." There were winces, as they all recalled the horrid Yuuzhan Vong plants that had taken over any planet occupied by them. "Masters Sebatyne and Corran, I would like you to take a team of ten Knights and help the local government there. Meeting adjourned."

The dismissal was abrupt, but the Jedi Masters didn't let the surprise of it show. One by one the others stood, bowed respectfully, and left. Jaina was last—she turned to her uncle, standing before him in all of her mother's stature so that her small frame seemed taller.

"Uncle Luke, I know this is your decision, but do you really think we can trust this kid? We don't know anything about him, he could be a spy sent on the Order."

"Precisely why we should keep him close," Luke replied, unruffled by his niece's questions—he had thought of them himself. "If he is a spy, it's better to have him close to keep an eye on him then let him go his own way. Besides, I can sense he is telling the truth." He glanced over at the boy—Harry, he reminded himself, his name was Harry—who stood silently by the large glass windows of the Temple, looking exhausted and utterly uninterested in the speeders rushing by. "I don't think he's a danger."

Jaina sighed, defeated. "All right," she said quietly. "You do like to give people the benefit of the doubt. Do you want me to tell Mom and Dad about this?"

Luke shook his head, seeing Mara slowly approaching Harry. "No. There's no need for them to come home early from Corellia just for this."

Jaina nodded. "I'll stop by within the week," she said. "I'll bring Jacen along."

"Good. Maybe we can figure out what this boy's been through."

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"Are you ready to go, Mara?" he asked ten minutes later as Jaina left. He stopped at Mara's side and looked carefully at Harry, who gazed right back. They were roughly the same height, the boy more slender than Luke. He sensed Mara's frustration and knew she hadn't been able to crack Harry's shell. Again, that surprised Luke—as a former Emperor's Hand, Mara knew how to get information from someone.

She did not show any of this on her face or in her eyes, however, as she replied, "Yes, I suppose I am." Turning on her heel, she started towards the door, calling over her shoulder, "I'll get the speeder started."

Luke nodded his consent and turned back to Harry—only to find that the boy was already looking at him with an appraising eye. It made Luke want to shift uncomfortably—he had rarely, if ever, been scrutinized by a teenager; it was like he was being sized up. He had rarely seen a teenager look at him in such an adult way, and Luke began to understand that Harry had seen true horrors in his life, ones worse than even Luke's. "You'll have to excuse my wife," he said finally. "She's like that with everyone."

Harry grinned, but it was very bitter. "It's not the first time that I've been thought as dangerous or deranged," he said, his voice cold. "I guess I can only accept that I'm going to thought of as an enemy. It's smart of you to take me with you—after all, it's safer to "keep your friends close but your enemies closer'."

It was those words that made Luke realize that Harry had heard his conversation with Jaina. He opened his mouth to protest, to deny it—but then realized that was exactly what he was doing. "I… suppose that's true," he finally replied reluctantly. "I can't look at you now and see you as a friend or ally, because I don't know anything about you. You very well could be a spy sent here to get information, and if I didn't at least try to keep my eye on you, I'd be responsible if my judgment proved false."

Harry blinked, and his Force presence grew hot with surprise. Luke thought that he had surprised the boy with his response… as if he'd expected a different one, or not one at all.

"Come on," he said finally. "We need to get home, and Mara will not hesitate to leave us behind." He started off, keeping an eye on the boy beside him, feeling his Force aura pulse with the pain he was so clearly struggling to hide. "You know" he said softly as they made their way to the speeder, "we have ways to heal your wounds. How'd you get them anyway?"

Harry's face froze and he stopped midstep. His Force presence went cold again. "I told you," he said roughly, "Voldemort caught me. He doesn't allow anyone to leave his sight without some… mementos… first."

Harry's cryptic response was not by any means lost on Luke, and the Jedi Master stopped in shock. He could remember, in his mind's eye, the emperor's Force lightning as it danced through the air, torturing Luke with it—but he knew that wasn't how Harry had been so injured. The wounds on his person had been inflicted purposely, for pain—and for death.

He'd been tortured.

He struggled to push down his horror. "So… ah, did he leave any more… _memoirs_… other than these that we should know about?"

Now it was Harry's turn to pause. In his own world, if he had stumbled into those who cared for him in such a state, there would have been hysterical screaming and people insistently grabbing him to heal his wounds, fawning over him and generally treating him as he were on his deathbed. But this man standing beside him was not looking at him like he had become a glass figurine, someone to smother. It was with a tangible but not overbearing concern that this man asked about his well-being.

"No," he said softly; perhaps he was tempted to say "yes" and explain the Cruciatus Curse Voldemort had used on him, creating the aching pain that throbbed throughout his limbs, but he had suffered through its affects in silence before—and he didn't want to take the chance that this man's behavior might change to the type he detested. "No, he didn't do anything else."

The man's face flickered for a moment, but then it was gone, and Harry wondered what it meant. It made him uneasy, and he started to withdraw again—but then stopped. This man, the one referred to as "Luke" or "Master Skywalker" was looking at him with understanding, not scorn or pity. It confused him. Could he trust this stranger? The man didn't look dangerous, but Harry had seen him fight well; he was small and lithe, muscular, with greying blonde hair and calloused hands—his eyes were pale blue and burned with a sharp intensity not unlike Dumbledore's, but they were gentle and open. A deceiving appearance. No one would suspect he was dangerous until it was too late.

Luke smiled slightly to assure Harry, sensing the boy's inner turmoil. He had caught the boy's lie just then, but decided not to press. The EmDee hadn't said anything about internal wounds. "Come on," he said again. "We'll put some bacta salve on them when we get home." They didn't speak again until they climbed into the speeder, and that was only to assure Harry that it was safe. The ride through Coruscant's airways was silent, and both Skywalkers saw Harry rest his head against the window, drifting off right where he sat, the rapid flurry of his Force presence slowing and quieting in his exhaustion, until finally he slipped into sleep. When Luke and Mara reached their apartments, Luke carried him in and together they worked to fix their guest's battered body.

Mara shook her head as she worked to unwrap his ribs. "What monster would do this to a boy, Skywalker?" she asked rhetorically, her eyes flinty. Luke could feel her anger through their bond, and pushing down his own natural inclinations of anger at the torture of a child, he sent calmness to her so that her stiff shoulders slumped slightly.

He grabbed some bacta spray and liberally spread it across the boy's sleeping cleaned wounds—Harry was so deeply asleep that he did not stir at all with their gentle handing of him. Luke shook his head and silently answered Mara's question.

_Who indeed?_

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They stayed up with Harry that night, making sure their guest was all right and in no danger of his wounds, talking softly, struggling to understand what they were needed to do.

"This is just messed up, farmboy," Mara finally sighed tiredly. "How are we supposed to help this kid? He's lost, he's probably traumatized but unwilling to show it… He's essentially lost everything he cares for, if he really is from an alternate reality."

Luke shook his head. "It's the will of the Force," he answered softly. "We've got to trust that what we're doing is the right thing."

Mara turned to look out the glass viewports, one of her hands curled around her waist, the other playing with a lock of long auburn hair. "I still don't like it," she said quietly.

"And you think I do?" Luke stood from where he'd been sitting and came up behind her, reaching up to hold her close to him. "Have faith, my love," he said. "It'll work out. We'll understand one day."

Mara snorted. "I'm glad _one_ of us is sure," she answered wryly.

"Our main objective right now is to help him," he replied, rubbing her shoulders, then grasping her hand and kissing her fingers. "It's clear Harry isn't a spy, and he needs aid even if it's just someplace to stay."

"If only for that?" Mara asked. She turned in his arms and rested her head on his chest. "Luke, you felt the same things from him as I did, the anger and frustration and just plain ruthlessness that he fought with. And when he was released from the medcenter, he shut down. He's dangerous, Luke, if he had access to the Force he'd be easy prey for the Dark Side."

"But he doesn't have access to the Force," Luke countered gently. "And you saw that he didn't use that anger fighting us. He used his… his "magic" to defend himself, not to permanently harm any of us. He was angry, yes, but I think it was because he had been tortured if his wounds are any clue. He really is pure of heart, Mara. I could sense it. He isn't Dark."

"Then what _is_ he, Skywalker?" Mara asked, perhaps a mite scornfully.

At that very moment, however, the Force suddenly flailed with chilling fear, and they turned as one to Harry, who still lay asleep on the couch, but clearly slipping into the rips of a nightmare. His body tensed, his face tightening with emotion as the Force seized up.

"No," they heard him moan, almost pleadingly, "no… please…"

It was Mara who reacted—she reached out with the Force and sent a wave of reassurance and calm his way, and to their relief Harry settled down, the vestiges of the nightmare dissipating.

Luke sighed. He's lost and he's hurting, Mara," he said softly. "He's just a boy."


	4. Chapter 4

"_**Chapter 4"**_

_A/N: All right, here's chapter number four—just to say, I really have no idea how long this story is going to be. I have key moments written down on paper, but everything else I just fill in, so I don't know how long I'll have this by the end. Thank you so much for your reviews, and saying that this is an original storyline—I hoped I'd accomplish that. Enjoy!_

When Harry woke up, he found he was settled on a comfortable, rather long sofa in a suite. Morning sunlight streamed through large windows that really acted as the walls, supported by beams, spilling across his face gently, and the smell of something cooking permeated the room. For one split second panic rose in his throat as he looked around, but then with difficulty he forced it down, knowing it wouldn't help. He sat up quickly, then realized he was going to aggravate his wounds, and almost cringed in anticipation of the pain—

But the pain he expected never came. The dull ache of the Cruciatus Curse remained, but his body did not erupt in fiery agony like it had before, Confused, he looked down to inspect himself, and his jaw dropped. His chest and stomach were not riddled with the deep wounds from Voldemort's Cutting Hexes; indeed, there was nothing to suggest that he had been injured in the first place—his skin was smooth and unmarked, not even a_ scar_ remained. What the hell-?

"Ah, Harry. Good, you're awake."

Harry leaped up from the couch, instinctively reaching for his wand before remembering he didn't have it, and came face to face with Luke. The blonde-haired man stood with a raised brow and an almost amused look in his eyes. Harry felt his face burn.

"Sorry," he muttered embarrassedly.

"It's all right," Luke assured him quietly, moving closer to the couch. "I'm not surprised you reacted like that."

"How long have I been here?" Harry asked abruptly, in no mood for pleasantries. He couldn't call enough shame up for his rudeness—he'd been through too much the past few days, especially with Sirius… Hastily he shoved those thoughts aside, unwilling to think about that, but nonetheless he felt the gloom settled around him deepen.

If Luke had caught anything of his thoughts, he didn't show it. "Almost four days," he answered, and this time he really did smile when seeing Harry's shock. "I had placed you in a healing trance so your wounds would heal faster—it seems they didn't take that long at all. Even a Jedi wouldn't have been completely healed until a week had passed."

"It's because wizards heal more quickly than Muggles—er, non-magic folk—do," Harry said absently, and caught Luke's frown of confusion. "Wizards, it's what we call ourselves. People who can do magic. Men are called warlocks and women are witches."

"So like the Witches of Dathomir," Luke said softly, nodding his understanding.

Harry frowned. "The Witches of Dath- Datho-"

"Dathomir," Luke said, grinning. "A planet that is really run by large clans of women who are all Force-sensitive. Over the centuries, however, they forgot about the Force and now believe their abilities to be born of what they call "magic". I've had a few of the Witches of Dathomir at my Academy—not least of all Tenal Ka, the Chum'Da of the Hapans. Her mother had been born and raised a Witch. The planet holds some… rather interesting history for me and my sister Leia and her husband Han. And for the Jedi of the Old Republic."

Harry stared at him. "Do I really want to know?"

Luke shrugged. "Depends. If you want the long or short version—oh wait, there is no short version. No, you probably don't want to hear about it right now."

Harry's mouth twitched in the beginning of a smile, and he took a step forward—but nearly had to sit again when a wave of dizziness hit him. He took a moment to steady himself and in that moment realized how hungry he had somehow become.

He heard Luke's low chuckle. "It's normal for you to be hungry and light-headed after a healing trance," he explained. ""It's nothing a good meal won't fix."

Harry sent him an irritated look. "Are you reading my mind?" he demanded. It reminded him too much of the disastrous Occlumency lessons with Snape during his past year at Hogwarts, who had ridiculed and insulted and shouted at him for not trying and for "being weak".

Luke frowned. "Not really," he answered slowly. "See, everyone belongs to the Force—it's the factor that holds the universe together, and everyone, whether you have access to it or not, has a presence in the Force. Force-users like the Jedi can sense emotions from people because their Force presences change due to their emotions." He shrugged. "Sometimes a Jedi can pick up a thought or a memory, but that's rare. I can pick up your emotions well because I'm naturally better at sensing someone's feelings. You haven't learned to control what you broadcast through the Force, so naturally the Jedi are going to sense your emotions."

"Oh." Harry wasn't sure if he was assured or not—he supposed it was a good thing that these "Jedi" wouldn't be able to see his memories, but his emotions were bad enough. He fought the resentment that rose up inside of him, knowing that among these people he was vulnerable, and instead distracted himself by looking around at the large room. It was airy and lit both by the sunlight and overhead lights. The carpet, which looked and smelled clean and new, was a deep red with delicate white strange floral patterns designed in it. It certainly looked expensive, but wasn't fancy. There was an easy feeling to it, like it was well lived in, unlike his aunt and uncle's stuffy and upright house on Privet Drive. Sighing to himself, knowing that that was at least one place he was not going to miss, he moved forward again, fighting back the dizziness it brought, and followed Luke down the long hallway into the kitchen quarters, where he saw Luke's wife, Mara, standing at the stove making breakfast. She looked irritated, and when she turned to them it was with a huff and a hand on her hip.

"Skywalker," she said with a glare, "you know I love you dearly, but this is the last time you talk me into cooking breakfast."

He smiled innocently as he motioned Harry to take a seat. "We all have our shameful little secrets, Mara," he replied, a sly note underlying his words.

She pointed the cooking utensil in her hand at him like a finger. "Shut it, farmboy," she warned him with a slight smile. "This meal very well may be your last."

"Yeah," he deadpanned, "with your cooking it probably could be." Laughing, he dodged the spatula she threw at him. Harry watched in open-mouthed surprise. The two adults were acting like a pair of playful teenagers, not like the calm and collected adults they had introduced themselves as. Strange. It almost made him smile, thinking it was odd but also a good thing.

Unable to keep from laughing herself, Mara turned the heat off and dumped the nerf sausage into a bowl, then grabbed a jug of blue milk and carried them both to the table. Harry looked at the different foods curiously, wondering where they all came from. He watched Luke and Mara take their seats, and then, led by his growling stomach, decided to forgo stubbornness and filled his plate.

"What's this?" he asked, motioning to the crumbling brown meat that he was setting on his plate.

"Nerf sausage," Mara answered with a glare at Luke, who merely grinned back.

"Nerf?" Harry repeated with a raised brow. "It sounds like something you'd call someone when they're being stupid."

Luke surprised him again by chuckling. "I think Leia would have to agree with that," he remarked quietly, grinning. "A nerf is an herbivore from an Outer Rim planet—the word, however, can be used as an insult, like calling someone a "nerf-herder"."

"Or you can embellish it and call them a "stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking nerf-herder"," Mara added with a smirk.

Harry looked between them. "I'm missing something, aren't I?"

Luke laughed again. "Some thirty-odd years ago, Leia called her future husband that, all what Mara just said. Of course, Han being Han, he just replied with "Who's scruffy-looking?" and brushed her insults off." He shook his head in exasperation. "He should have gotten on his knee and proposed to her right then and there. Everyone could see they liked each other except for _them_."

Harry's mouth twitched into a smile again and his Force presence flared slightly with a wave of humor—but then it was gone, drowned by the coldness that was wrapped around him. Mara, having caught it, felt disappointed and wondered what it would feel like to sense pure humor from the boy, without any sarcasm or bitterness accompanied with it.

"Sounds familiar," they heard him mutter as he looked down at his plate.

"Oh?" Mara asked. "Why is that?"

Harry took a tentative bite of the sausage before deciding whether or not he was going to answer, pausing slightly when the taste of the meat's rich spice filled his senses. It really was excellent, better than even regular sausage. "I have a couple of friends who are exactly like that. They bicker and fight all the time, have whole weeks full weeks where they won't speak to each other, and yet it's so blaringly obvious that they like each other you just want to slap them both and tell them to kiss already."

Luke and Mara looked at each other with identical grins. "Yep," Luke remarked, "that definitely sounds like Han and Leia before they married." He motioned to the boy's plate. "Eat as much as you want, all right? It costs the body a lot of energy to heal itself through a trance—you'll need to eat a lot."

"Otherwise you'll be light-headed all day," Mara added, speaking from personal experience.

Harry's face flushed. "I couldn't do that," he objected, talking about the food. "I'm just a guest. Besides, I… I don't usually eat a lot, anyway."

His hastily-muttered words caused the two Jedi to glance at each other again, and then Luke shook his head. "Guest or not, Harry, you need to eat. We have more than enough food for the three of us and many more—"

The buzzing of the comm caught their attentions, and Luke stood from the table to activate the speaker. "Master Skywalker speaking," he said, and motioned for Mara and Harry to continue eating.

"Master Skywalker," came a vaguely familiar voice Harry thought he knew.

"Kenth," Luke frowned. "What is it?"

"You need to come to the Temple right away, Luke. We're having some… some issues with the Head of State."

Luke rolled his eyes, but didn't allow his opinion of that ripple through the Force. "Very well, Master Hamner. I'll be there right away."

"Of course, Master Skywalker," Kenth replied, to which Luke grimaced. "Over and out." There was the click of the comm, and Luke sighed. He picked up his plate and put it on the counter drinking down his glass of blue milk as he did so. "I'll be back shortly, Mara," he told her, pulling an overcoat on.

"Take your time, Skywalker," she replied, smirking. "We'll be just fine here. I think Jaina will be stopping by later."

"Good. Is she bringing Jacen along?"

"I believe so. They're getting the apartments ready for when Han and Leia get back."

Luke nodded. "I'll make this quick, then." He leaned down and kissed her swiftly on the lips, grinned at Harry, then was gone.

Silence fell thickly, so thickly that a knife could have cut it. Mara went back to eating, and Harry followed suit. Neither of them spoke until, finally, Mara lost patience with the teen's brooding silence and laid her fork down. "You know, kid," she remarked, "I've met a lot of stubborn teenagers who refuse to speak about anything, but you should know that Luke and I didn't take you in just to have you ignore us."

Harry looked back up at her, and his eyes were hot. "I didn't know that healing for four days was "ignoring" you," he retorted coldly, as coldly as she ever could.

She sighed. "No, it's not," she conceded, "but you don't have to keep up this cold demeanor around us, Harry. We're not going to hurt you."

"Didn't stop your husband from going after me with a weapon," he snapped.

Mara struggled to keep from snapping back. It would do neither of them good if this became a shouting match. Besides, he had a point. "We weren't planning on killing you," she told him finally, having restored her calm. "We weren't even trying to harm you, either. We were hoping we could subdue you enough to calm you down so we could_ talk_ to you."

"And yet you still came after me violently," he answered her snidely—and then she abruptly noticed the sly look in his eyes, and she realized he was playing her. She almost cursed her stupidity: his anger was real, but he was gauging her reactions, testing her truthfulness—and how well she checked her temper.

She sighed, realizing he was going to take a lot to get through to completely. "Only for defense," she countered gently. "Just as you use that stick as your defense. We Jedi use the Force and our lightsaber in battle—you wizards seem to use magic and…"

"Our wands," he said, and he seemed to reach for his before realizing that he didn't have it. "Where is it, anyway?" he demanded, looking at her with a hard gaze. He seemed almost nervous about the fact that it was gone. Mara could easily understand the feeling to be stripped of a weapon. What was more, she began to realize that a wizard's relationship with his wand was similar to a Jedi's without their lightsaber—it didn't feel right not having it, even for a moment. It made you feel vulnerable.

She sighed again. "Skywalker has it," she admitted, almost reluctant to say so. "When you were in the medcenter, the droid looking over you gave it to us."

"I don't suppose I'll be getting it back any time soon," Harry sighed, looking disheartened.

Mara shook her head. "Probably not," she conceded. "none of us really know anything about you, and we can't take the chance of you being an enemy. Besides, you'd probably try to escape, and getting lost on Coruscant is not something to test. There are lots of things in the sub-levels that would not hesitate to harm or kill a teenager. You aren't prepared to be alone here on Coruscant."

"Is that why Luke took me in?" he asked expressionlessly. "He didn't think I can take of myself?"

"Don't be thick," she scolded him. "When you first came here, you took on the best Jedi Masters there are. You stood your ground and did a damn good job of it, too. But that doesn't mean that we weren't and still aren't concerned about what happens to you. You are still rather young to have been through what you said you went through. Actually," she added thoughtfully, "I really think Skywalker's beginning to care about you."

His reaction was not one she was expecting. "Do me a favor," he snapped, suddenly very white in the face. "Don't." He made to stand up, to leave, but Mara reached out and grasped his wrist.

"And why not?"

He paused, looking as if he was struggling with what he should say, and she felt his Force aura grow cold with guilt, an overwhelming guilt that nearly shocked her back in her seat. "Because anyone who's ever cared about me has ended up dead," he finally answered in a dead voice, and when Mara's grip on his wrist slackened, he tore it away, standing stiffly, and turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Mara stared after him in open amazement, her mouth threatening to drop. As a former Emperor's Hand, and an experienced Jedi Master who had been witness to a lot of guilt, she had been taught to prepare herself for any excuses for feelings and reactions. Never before, however, had she heard such a declaration stated with such open anguish and cold self-loathing. It had become very clear to Mara in that instant just how hurt Harry was. Where so much of his cold aloofness came from. And she began to understand just how right Luke had been when he'd told her four days ago, _"He's lost and he's hurting." _He was a boy with a world-heavy amount of guilt on his shoulders, and in a dangerous phase of identity-crisis as he struggled to understand who he was.

She sat back in her seat, very glad that Harry couldn't sense her sudden upwelling of turmoil.


	5. Chapter 5

"_**Chapter 5"**_

_A/N: Poor Harry! I really do feel bad for him, he must be so confused. Anyway, here's the fifth chapter for those of you who are enjoying this story. And as for author Markhal's insightful question, yes, you will see what happens to Sirius in a little while, right after Ben comes into the picture. Enjoy!_

Leaving the kitchen, Harry went back to the couch he'd been on previously and struggled to stop his uncontrollable shivering. Shakily, he ran his fingers through his hair and then wearily rubbed his face, feeling old and suddenly exhausted. His thoughts drifted to Sirius, and his anguish deepened, along with his self-loathing. He had been stupid enough to fall for Voldemort's trap at the Ministry, and that had led to Sirius's falling through the veil. It had been there that Voldemort had taken him as a prisoner, he remembered being put under the Cruciatus Curse after chasing Bellatrix Lestrange to the Atruim.

It had been the first curse of many. Those days of his captivity were blurred and hazy—all he could recall was a dark room, cold freezing air, and the Death Eaters who came to bring him before Voldemort. His last lucid memory before the going with the Death Eaters to the veil was being put under the worst Cruciatus Curse he'd ever experienced—he had fought against his captors then, and it had ended with him pressed against the wall with Voldemort's wand pressed against his scar; he could recall his own screams until finally his body couldn't take anymore and he had passed out. It had been pain beyond endurance, and he would never forget the awful fear he had felt that day, never forget anything of that day.

"_Will you sing for me, my little songbird? Will you tell me the Prophecy? Surely you want the pain to stop."_

He had wanted it to, so badly, he had pleaded for it to stop. He didn't know the Prophecy, he never had.

"Hey, kid."

The unfamiliar voice caused him to jump and reach for his wand again, and this time cursed when he realized, _again_, that he didn't have it. Turning, he looked to see who had spoken and saw the girl from the Temple standing there with a young man beside her. They were both brown-haired and brown-eyed, although the man was much taller than the girl. They were dressed in very different outfits as well—while the man wore simple robes, the girl was wearing a tight black suit that had insignia on its right shoulder. They were both looking at him with similar expressions, though—one of confusion, surprise. He nearly cursed again, wondering if they had sensed his emotions through the "force", whatever the hell that was, and desperately wished he could do some wandless magic.

It was the man who moved first, recovering from his surprise. He looked over at his companion. "This is the kid Uncle Luke picked up four days ago?" She nodded silently, her eyes never leaving Harry, who glared defiantly back at her. "You do realize that he's projecting anger and fear within a five-mile radius, right?" But before anything could be said, he turned back to Harry and managed a grin. "Sorry if I startled you right now, I swear I don't do it on purpose." He extended a calloused, well-worn hand. "I'm Jacen Solo, Jaina's twin brother."

"Younger brother," she interjected with a smirk. "By almost two minutes."

"Put a kark in it, you," Jacen said good-naturedly, still grinning, but it faded a bit when Harry made no move to return his greeting.

"Jacen! Jaina!"

Mara's voice caused them all to turn, and then the brother and sister were being enfolded into a hug by their aunt.

"We were expecting a visit from you today, but I wasn't sure when you'd stop by. Are your flight drills done, Jaina?"

"No. We have a couple more days to go through, and then we all have a short leave—which means that Ben will be back soon."

Mara smiled, and the Solo twins felt the Force light up with her delight. The thought of her son always cheered her up where not even Luke could. "I've certainly missed him. Luke has, too. He's just too stubborn to admit it."

Harry, throughout all of this, silently walked away from this meeting, wanting nothing more than to get away. He didn't want to hear about a family, didn't want to witness it, unable to bear it. Of all the weaknesses he had, he detested the wish for a family the most—because it was the one thing he would never have. To his enormous relief, he wasn't noticed and so he left the room, practically fleeing to the back of the suite, not caring that he didn't know where he was going. Better to get away from the agony Voldemort could never induce.

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When Luke came back from the meeting from the Head of State, he found Mara curled up in her chair, reading a datapad absentmindedly. He could tell by her unfocused eyes, however, that she really wasn't reading it at all, but instead contemplating something else. He could easily guess the object of her attention, even if that thing was not sitting there with her in the room. Luke could sense a familiar roiling in the Force that he had sensed four days ago, and sighed. "Hello, love," he said softly, walking up to his wife. Mara merely grunted a greeting, then went back to her datapad. He frowned. "Mara, what's wrong?"

She looked up at him now, and her eyes had that hard gleam in them when she was troubled and trying to hide it.

"Mara?"

She sighed, shaking her head. "Are we going to be able to help Harry, Luke?" she asked softly.

He frowned and kneeled on one knee beside her. "What do you mean?"

She met his gaze, suddenly angry. "I mean, Skywalker," she retorted, and her eyes flashed, "whether we're helping Harry or whether we're _hurting_ him. No, let me talk," she said when he opened his mouth to reply. "This morning, after you left, I talked to him, told him that he shouldn't act so cold around us, that we're only trying to help him. And when I told him that you were beginning to genuinely care about him—"

"You _told_ him that?"

"Yes! And suddenly… well, I suddenly felt him close up more, and he told me, "Don't." And when I asked him why in Corellia's nine hells why not, he simply said, "Because anyone who's ever cared about me has ended up dead". He said that, word for word. Luke, he _hates_ himself, he's blaming himself for something, but I don't know _why_. When Jaina and Jacen came to see us, he slipped off by himself to one of our guest bedrooms and hasn't come out yet. He's been brooding, and Force help me, if he goes on like this for much longer I may just take him through a training session that would make a Jedi Master cry!"

Luke had to hide a grin at his wife's exasperation—it was a proven fact that Mara Jade Skywalker had very little patience when it came to moodiness, especially when it was accompanied with teenage attitude. "Well, I'll go speak to him," he assured her. "And no, I don't think we're hurting him—not in the long run. Remember, if he keeps it all bottled up inside it'll just make it worse. We've just got to draw him out bit by bit until he's recovered."

"Quite the psychologist, aren't you, Skywalker?" she asked sarcastically, but he thought he sensed her un-tense a little, calmed by his words.

"I've got to be, with you as my wife," he replied, and quickly sprang back with a laugh as she realized what he'd said and swiped at him. He was pleased that he had made her smile, though. Grinning innocently at her as she sat back in her seat, he shrugged his cloak off and headed back to the sleeping quarters, where he felt the Force shifting restlessly. He walked quietly into the first bedroom, the guest's, and discovered that Harry was seated in the windowsill, looking out on the planet's city. He glanced at Luke, but did not speak. The Jedi took it to mean that he was to make the first move.

It was harder than he expected. Even with experience as a father, Luke was not sure exactly how to approach this finicky, skittish teenaged boy without making a wrong move.

"Mara told me you've taken refuge here," he said softly, walking forward into the dark. When Harry made no move or indication to reply, he sighed and decided for the direct approach. "There is no use in hiding, Harry. Does it ever do any good?"

"What makes you think I'm hiding?" Harry replied after a long moment of silence, but there was no bristling attitude in his speech like there had been before—now there was merely a bone-worry ache, echoing loss and confusion.

And suddenly Luke realized why the boy was bothering him, what it was he had felt the Force telling him. This boy—no, he corrected himself, young man—had seen and done things that no child his age should ever have to see or do. Harry's behavior, when not rude anyway, reminded him eerily of fighter pilots or ground troops who had seen battle before and become used to it. And worse, accepted it as normal. He remembered witnessing young men he led during Rogue Squadron who had turned into hardened warriors after witnessing their first battles because there was no other way to survive it.

Harry had seen death firsthand. Had perhaps been the cause of it.

"Because I've seen men older than you hide to escape reality," he said softly. "When they've lost someone." How many times had he wanted to just hide from life for a little after leaving Tatooine as a nineteen year old kid? He'd lost count.

Harry stiffened, and he knew he was right.

"I know how you feel, Harry."

"No, you don't," the boy said shortly, and his tone was cold, freezing with a sudden flare of rage, and Luke felt the Force light up with his fury. "You have no idea what I've been through, what I've done—"

"You've lost someone and you think it's your fault."

The boy's mouth clicked shut, and he turned to Luke in a mix of astonishment and anger and suspicion. "If you've been reading my mind—"

"I don't need to use the Force at all around you," Luke said, a mite impatiently, "I know what it feels like to deal with the guilt of losing someone you loved—and thinking you were the one responsible." He paused, but could tell that Harry was still listening, his anger cooled a little by his curiosity. He took a deep breath, preparing to talk about the earliest tragedy he could recall. "I can understand what it feels like to suddenly be driven away from everything you once knew and loved. When I was nineteen, my aunt and uncle were murdered for two droids that I had with me."

Now he had Harry's full attention. "You… you were raised by your aunt and uncle?" At Luke's nod, he frowned and turned back to the window. "I was raised by my aunt and uncle. You're an orphan?"

Luke nodded. "Yes." He found it difficult to speak of, even after all this time. "My mother died in childbirth… we never have discovered who she was. And my father… he left. He never came back." _Except when he chased me around the galaxy when discovering my existence._ "He believed that my sister and I had died with our mother." He looked curiously at Harry. "You lost your parents?"

"Murdered, as well. When I was one. Voldemort killed them trying to get to me."

And that was the conversation, except for a few more minutes of questions, but they were unimportant as, suddenly, both of them realized they could understand each other. And Harry, somehow, felt a little better knowing that the man standing in the doorway seemed to really understand, both about being guilty in the deaths of others and of having lost his parents.


	6. Chapter 6

"_**Chapter 6"**_

A/N: I am SO sorry for the delay with this chapter— I wasn't feeling SW for a long time and then I started college but finally, everything's calmed down. On a better note, we'll finally see Ben! And we'll see less of the moody Harry—he was honestly beginning to get on my nerves! Have fun, and I hope you like it!

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Two days later, Ben came home from flying drills with the squadrons. At fourteen, he was a red-headed boy with a less-than-average height and a slender, wiry frame built from his years of training as a Jedi apprentice. He had his father's blue eyes and cleft chin, but his mother's red hair and sharp tongue, which made family arguments interesting. Walking into the family headquarters, he immediately sensed something was off. Not dangerous, just… tense, and careful. He frowned. Maybe his mother was in one of her moods? But he quickly dismissed that thought. When his mother was caught up in the past, she drew away from him in the Force so as to not affect him. Besides, when she was like that the air itself seemed to thrum with restrained energy. This was a sad sense he could feel through the Force.

"Mom? Dad?" he called. It was too quiet as well. Usually they had something on, whether it was the holocam or the latest news. Now there was nothing. He was just preparing to call again, when suddenly his dad came around the corner of the hall, wearing his usual fatigues, but he looked unusually grim—although that vanished seeing his son.

"Ben," he greeted him, pulling him in for an embrace. "You're early—Jaina said you wouldn't be back for a couple more days."

"Well, if you want me to, I_ can_ just leave…" Ben replied, smirking when seeing his dad roll his eyes.

"Of course we don't want you to leave!" Luke said in slight exasperation, clearly cursing his son's cheekiness, and that was when Mara came into view.

"Ben!" she exclaimed, smiling, and as always drew him into a hug. Ben grinned into his mother's shoulder—whatever he said on the contrary, he really did miss his parents when he left, whether it was sharing a grin with his dad or taking in his mother's scent.

But that odd heaviness bothered him. "What's wrong, Dad?" he asked as Mara drew back.

Luke sighed. "That's a… a hard question to answer, Ben," he replied. "About a week ago, the Jedi had to subdue a boy who was disrupting the public. We discovered that the boy is actually from an alternate dimension, where there is no Force or- or _anything_ familiar. He had been tortured and hurt badly, so your mother and I took him in."

"And he's the one causing this whole depressive mood in the house?" Ben asked, trying to keep his mouth from dropping. "Who _is_ he?"

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So Ben found himself walking down the hall to the guest bedroom fifteen minutes later. He frowned to himself, still confused from his parents' explanation, but his curiosity was getting the better of him again, and he couldn't resist meeting this newcomer. Slowly, he pushed open the door of the room and blinked in surprise when seeing the guest had not turned a light on. It was dark, except for the light coming from the windows. Soon, however, his eyes adjusted so that he was able to make out a figure stretched out on the bed.

He cleared his throat in a way of introducing his presence, and with startling swiftness the motionless figure was suddenly very alive, leaping from his former position and standing all in one smooth motion.

"Who's there?" came a low, dangerous voice. The fatigue in this boy's Force aura had fled in the face of level-headed calm, and it made Ben slightly nervous. This was what his mother felt like when she was ready to attack. But he calmed himself.

"I'm a resident of this house, so I'd really like it better if I wasn't threatened in it," he answered coolly.

There was a slight shifting in the other's stance, but he was still poised to protect himself. "You're Ben, aren't you? Luke and Mara's son."

"Yeah." Ben un-tensed slightly. "Is it all right if I turn on a light? Mom and Dad told me about you—I'd like to talk."

There was a short pause, of tense silence, then: "I suppose."

As Ben moved to do so, he frowned to himself. The voice was young, the tone not yet having deepened completely, and the accent was utterly foreign—clipped and stressed, it sounded sophisticated, almost like his own Coruscant accent. As the lights switched on, he again blinked in surprise.

He was facing a boy, as Luke had said, about his own age. He was taller than Ben was by a fair amount, however, and he'd always thought _he_ was slender. This Harry Potter didn't look like he'd had a good meal in a while. His hair was an unmanageable mess black as midnight that still looked good; he was white-skinned, paler than Ben had ever seen any human before, an alabaster color unmarred by freckles or other markings, except—he noticed with a slight shiver— a long straight scar running down his right arm. He had a sharp face, with a long nose, tapered jaw, and thin, purposeful lips. His eyes, he noticed, were emerald green like his mother's, although hers were faintly speckled with grey.

They were old, tired eyes, aged beyond their years, haunted by the past. Looking at Harry Potter now, Ben realized that he looked similar to Luke did when his dad came home struggling with some inner demon of his past. _A fifteen year old kid shouldn't look like this_, Ben thought to himself, _he shouldn't look like he's thirty_. That was for adults to look like. Not a teenager.

But teenagers often looked that way, Ben reminded himself. Like his father had three days ago, he began to realize that Harry, whoever he was, was no stranger to death, and Ben wondered what he had seen or done to make him seem so cold and tired.

Harry was looking at him carefully, studying his features, and finally said, "You look like Ron." His Force aura darkened with a pang of sadness. "Except he's taller."

"Ron?" Ben asked, hoping that this was a safe opening for a conversation.

"Ron Weasley," Harry replied quietly. "He's my best mate."

"What, like a wing-mate?"

Now it was Harry's turn to be confused as he struggled to understand Ben's question. Finally, though, he realized what Ben was thinking. "Oh no," he said, snorting softly at the thought. "No, he's my best friend. You have a best friend, don't you?"

Surprisingly, Ben had to think about the answer to that question. Did he actually have any really good friends? Ones he missed when not around them, people who made him laugh and he could hang around with? "No," he answered truthfully. "I have friends, but not best friends, although my aunt always said I'd have gotten along really well with my cousin Anakin…"

"Anakin?" Harry frowned. "Where did that name come from? Is it a star?"

"No." Ben sat on the second bed in the room and watched as Harry, still tense, sat down on the one opposite him. "He was named after my grandfather Anakin Skywalker. Naming my cousin Anakin was Aunt Leia's way of making peace with my grandfather."

"Make peace?" Harry was becoming more confused. "What do you mean by that?"

Ben almost openly gaped at him. Sure, Luke had told him that Harry was probably from another universe but he hadn't truly believed his dad, sure that that had been an exaggeration.

But to hear Harry ask who Anakin Skywalker essentially was and who had been, was unheard of. Everyone knew who Anakin Skywalker was and who he had ultimately become.

"He was my grandfather," he explained carefully. "But I never knew him. My dad didn't know him. Anakin Skywalker was a Jedi like my dad, during the last few years of the Old Republic, but only a few days before Dad and Aunt Leia were born Grandfather turned to the Dark Side. He was Darth Vader, a Sith Lord, for over twenty years. My grandmother died shortly after giving birth and Dad and Aunt Leia were separated at birth. My aunt became Leia Organa, princess of Alderaan, and my dad was raised as a moisture farmer on Tatooine."

Harry's eyes had brightened with surprise and honest curiosity. "And they didn't know any of this, I take it?" he asked dryly. For him, his previous conversation with Luke was making more sense.

"_My mother died in childbirth…. And my father left. He never came back."_

Now he could understand the hesitancy Luke had spoken with, the old hurt that he could clearly see had risen with the words. And he thought he had had a bad childhood, while Luke had been struggling with a mother and father he had never known and not knowing that his father had gone Dark. He shivered to himself, suddenly almost glad that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that both James and Lily Potter were actually dead and not living as Dark wizards.

Ben shook his head. "No. They didn't meet until they were both nineteen—that's a long story." He almost shook his head in disbelief. This story was all in the history books. Maybe Harry _was_ from another world."Anyway, they fought together in the Galactic Civil War against the Empire, which Vader had helped put into power. At the end of the war, both Vader and the Emperor Palpatine died—but Dad was able to redeem Vader at the end. Aunt Leia spent a long time angry at Vader's memory, but she was able to finally forgive him—that's why she called my cousin "Anakin"." He shrugged, then decided to change the subject. "But tell me—how'd you get here? Where are your parents?"

Harry's eyes hardened suddenly, and his face iced over. "My parents were murdered when I was one," he said roughly. Ben stared at him—of all the answers possible, that had not been one he had been expecting. "I was raised by non-magic folk all my life, I didn't find out that I was a wizard until I was eleven. Luke and Mara probably told you I can do magic." Ben nodded. "At the age of eleven, all children who can perform magic can go to Hogwarts, a school that teaches them how to control their abilities. I… I was finishing my fifth year there," he continued quietly, and his Force aura grew colder. "There's a man after me in that world, a maniac Dark Lord who calls himself Voldemort. He managed to capture me…" He shifted uncomfortably, and Ben felt guilt well up in the other boy. "He tortured me and finally 'executed' me by making me go through a the Death Veil at the Ministry of Magic."

Ben sat frozen on the bed. So much information! There was so much he didn't understand: who was this "Voldemort"? How was he a Dark Lord? Was he anything like the Sith? What was this Death Veil that Harry talked about?

And why was Harry feeling so guilty?

"You… you said this Voldemort guy _killed_ you?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice neutral. It wasn't working. "With a _veil_?"

Harry snorted wryly. "It was believed in my world that the veil was a direct link to the Afterlife," he explained, and his voice cracked even as he said it. Ben had the feeling that Harry had lost someone from it—Harry was feeling a guilt Ben sometimes sensed from his own dad, a guilt by feeling as if they were to blame for the death of someone. His suspicion was proven correct when, at Ben's questioning look, Harry said in a near-whisper, "Voldemort tricked me into going to the Ministry, specifically to the Department of Mysteries. My godfather, Sirius Black, came to help me and my friends and he fell through the veil."

Ah. He had lost family, clearly someone very close to him. Now ben understood the guilt. He expected Harry to go on with his story but it became very clear that he was done with explanations. Instead, he ran a hand distractedly through his unruly hair—and then Ben saw it. It was a scar, previously hidden by his black bangs, shaped like a lightning bolt, looking red and angry against the milky white of his skin. He frowned. "How-?" he began in surprise, but Harry, having realized where his attention was, flattened his hair over it, his face darkening again.

"It was Voldemort's doing," he said roughly.

Ben stared at him. "How?"

Harry looked away. "He hit me with the Killing Curse," he said. "It rebounded back at him since my mum sacrificed herself for me." But then he shook himself and sent Ben an irritated glare. "Look, I don't want to explain this. Drop it." His tone was dark ,almost dangerous.

"All right," Ben said, reigning in his curiosity. There'd be time to get the whole story later. He shrugged carelessly and asked, "So, have you started looking for your godfather?"

Harry froze. "'Looked for'?" he repeated incredulously.

Ben nodded. "Yeah. You said you were sent through the same veil that he was. If you found yourself here on Coruscant, shouldn't he have come here as well?"

Harry blinked. "It just seems too easy," he said after a long moment of contemplation. "How do we even know he came here? The veil could have dropped him off anywhere."

"Actually, portals are exact creatures," Ben corrected him, glad he had been paying attention in his classes. "They don't move from planet to planet. Your godfather was probably dropped on some other part of Coruscant, but the portal couldn't have jumped to, say, Tatooine." He shook his head. "No, if he went through the veil, he's here somewhere."

But Harry shook his own head. "He might be here," he disagreed, "but this planet is so big and so full of people that you'll never find him." The heavy bitterness, even despair, in his voice told Ben he believed what he had just said completely.

But Ben stood up, unwilling to allow Harry to wallow in self-pity and bitterness anymore. "Hey, you're talking to a Jedi here," he said confidently. "I'm sure if we at least try to look we'll find him. I'm sure Dad wouldn't be against sending a few of us to look for this guy."

Now Harry looked at him, and abruptly all of the iciness of his expression dropped away as he seemed to dare to hope. He looked young like that, much more like his fifteen years, than he ever had before. "You think so?" he asked.

"Oh yeah." Ben held out a hand and pulled Harry to his feet, grinning. "Come on—we'll go talk to my dad about it."

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"So do you think we could look for him, then, Dad?" Ben asked twenty minutes later. He and Harry stood in Luke's study, who sat at his desk with a small stack of holocubes in front of him. He had listened attentively as his son had explained everything to him and then proposed sending Jedi to look for Harry's missing godfather; now, he frowned thoughtfully and looked up at his son.

"Do you believe we can find this man, Ben?"

His son nodded. "Yes," he answered immediately. "It might take us a little while but I think we can."

Luke raised an eyebrow, still deep in thought. Then he turned to Harry. "I have no doubts that you want your godfather found, and as quickly as he can be. Ben is correct when he said that portals are very exact. Your godfather will be here somewhere." He looked back at Ben. "Will you send a message to the Jedi Council, Son? Tell them I have an important request to make of them."

Ben smiled, excited. "Yes, master," he said and looked at Harry with reassurance before bowing and leaving the room.

Luke watched his son leave, not bothering to hide his own fond smile. Ben was incredibly intelligent, much more so than his father. He sighed to himself, feeling suddenly old, and then realized that Harry had not followed his son. Instead, the boy was standing very nearly in the corner, alert and observing, but his Force presence was thrumming with confusion and hope and—betrayal. Luke blinked. The tang f betrayal was faint and mixed with the confusion, and it was not as bitter as his anger from days before, but it was still unnerving.

"Harry?" he asked softly.

The boy met his gaze. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Luke frowned, confused, even as his spine seemed to shiver with foreboding. "What?"

Harry's mouth jerked, almost in a grimace. "Why didn't you tell me the truth about your father?"

Luke almost jerked back with the bluntness of the question, and for a split second he was remembering a similar question stated nearly forty years before.

"_Why didn't you tell me? You told me Vader betrayed and murdered my father."_

Luke took a deep breath and firmly pushed aside the memories. At least he knew what was bothering Harry, though. "Ben told you about Anakin Skywalker, I take it." At Harry's nod, he sighed again. "You must understand, Harry—the subject of my father and what he became… what atrocities he committed as Darth Vader… are still stuff of horror in the galaxy. To be honest, I was afraid you would be—well, not frightened, but wary of me and my family if you found out now that you are being housed by perhaps the most dangerous family in all of Coruscant. I did not want you to think you had to be wary of us. Besides…" and here he paused for a minute, then pushed on, "talking about Darth Vader is never easy."

Harry nodded slowly, and Luke sensed the sense of betrayal in his Force presence ease. "I can understand," he muttered. "I just don't like people lying to me."

"Well, technically, I wasn't lying to you," Luke replied, and he couldn't help but grin. "It was just from a certain point of view. Just an old joke between a master and his apprentice," he explained to Harry's questioning look. "And he was quite right."

Harry's mouth quirked up into a smile. "I suppose," he agreed.


	7. Chapter 7

"_**Chapter 7"**_

A/N: Are we to chapter 7 already? I have to thank every one of you who have stuck with me for so long! You guys are awesome!

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"What does he look like?" Kyp Durron asked. He sat fully alert and nearly eager in his Master's chair, looking at Harry intently. They all were. Even Jaina was silent, and willing to listen to what the Masters were being told—but maybe that was because it had been Ben's idea in the first place. Whatever the reason, Luke was just pleased that she was giving the boy the benefit of the doubt.

"Well…" Harry trailed off, almost surprised by the question. He had never really thought about it before—Sirius was simply Sirius, in his mind. "He's tall, maybe six foot, with long black hair—he likes wearing it long. He has grey eyes and his face… well, his face is thin and has a- a wasted look to it." He paused, trying to recall anything else that might help the Jedi find his godfather faster, and couldn't think of anything except: "He'll probably still think he's on the run from the law, so he may be either hiding or running around as a dog."

"A… dog?" Cighal, the Jedi Council's Master Healer, blinked her round, bulbous eyes, clearly baffled by what Harry meant by a "dog". Seeing her confusion, something mirrored more or less in the eyes of the other Masters, Harry realized that they must not have creatures such as that in this universe. It made him curious to see what kind of animals they _did_ have.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't realize—a dog is the name of a type of animal from my world. They can be pets. My godfather can turn into one, see, so you may have to keep your eyes open for that, too."

"What does this creature look like?" Kyle Katarn spoke up from beside Tresina Lobi. Like all the Masters there, he was not, perhaps, completely at ease with the fifteen-year-old, but willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, besides the anger and moodiness that they all felt from Harry, they could not sense any true Darkness about him.

"Well, if he's going around as a dog, you'll see him as four-legged, covered completely with black fur. Dogs all have snouts, but Sirius's dog has a long, thin snout. He'll have a tail, and usually when he runs you'll see his tongue—dogs like to run like that." Harry felt very surreal—who needed the appearance of a _dog_ explained to them? It was then, more than any other moment that it finally hit him that this world was very little like his own, if something he took utterly for granted was utterly foreign for these people.

Mara took pity on him. "Is that all you can tell us?" she asked, just to be sure.

He nodded. "Yeah. I'm sorry I can't tell you anything else—"

"You've told us enough," Luke assured him. He looked at the other Masters. "Now, this will undoubtedly take us some time, but I think if we send out a couple teams each day, continually switching, I think we can search by sections for our missing refugee. And for anyone who finds him—just remember he can do magic, and probably better than Harry did." The Masters all looked at Harry thoughtfully at those words, and he felt himself flush when he realized how much he must have knocked them all around that day.

"Er—I suppose I should apologize for that," he muttered, still very red in the face, and looked down at his feet, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I really didn't mean to do that, I just—"

"Freaked out," Kyp supplied helpfully.

There was a long silence. Then: "Yeah," Harry agreed, still refusing to look up at them. Jaina rolled her eyes with a slight smile, finding his embarrassment amusing—although she really didn't care for him, she had to admit that when it came down to it, Harry was a damn good fighter. Hell, if anything Harry had bragging rights, having taken on the best Jedi Masters there were!

"Well," Kyp smirked, "no harm done, kid. I'm sure that that was a one-time thing, anyway. We'd be ready for you this time."

His words coaxed a smile from the boy, finally, and a real one. "I'd like to see that."

"Hey, I'm sure that if you could get some training in, you could give us a good fight, but for right now—"

"Master Durron," Luke said quietly, raising an eyebrow, "we are not here to be challenging anyone."

"Actually, Skywalker," Mara said, suddenly eyeing Harry thoughtfully, "I think Master Durron just gave us a fantastic idea."

Everyone halted in whatever they were doing and simply stared at Mara—it was a very rare thing indeed that Mara Jade Skywalker spoke of _anything_ Kyp Durron's as a good idea, so now she had just thrown them all. Even Luke was looking at her in amazement. She smirked, knowing how badly she had just confused them, and looked at Harry again, who felt very self-conscious very suddenly.

"Er—what idea is that?" he asked nervously.

Her smile widened. "Training you, of course!"

"_What?"_ several of the Masters demanded at once—even Kyp. But Luke, having caught onto his wife's train of thought, simply grinned.

Mara looked at them all. "Not training him as a Jedi, of course, but we could still instruct him in hand-to-hand combat and such, maybe even teach him to fly a ship. If we end up finding his godfather, he could still be taught his magic, but _we'd_ be teaching him control and _finesse_."

"He does need to learn control," Kam Solusar agreed slowly. There were nods from every side.

"This one believez you are right," Saba Sebatyne, one of the Barabel Jedi, said. Her deep, gravelly voice caused Harry to jump in surprise, and she hissed softly in amusement. "This one is sorry, Harry Potter. This one did not mean to startle you."

"I-It's okay," he said, and the Jedi could sense him pulling himself together, pushing aside his surprise and even fear to focus on Mara.

"Is that really necessary?" he asked nervously.

Her brow rose in surprise. "You could use it, Harry," she told him. "Besides, you said so yourself that Voldemort is after you in your world. If you ever get back there you should at least have something to throw at him. Training and control will definitely give you an edge."

She had said the magic words when talking about Voldemort—even the most dubious of the Masters knew that Harry needed help to kill the Dark Lord after him, and if their training could do that… Very quickly they all agreed to Mara's idea. Finally, Luke looked at Harry, suddenly quite serious, and Harry knew what was going to happen next.

"So," Luke said quietly. "We have all agreed to your training, Harry. But we have a question for _you_ before we can begin it."

"Yes?" Harry asked, and they couldn't help but notice his eagerness.

"In order to begin we should return your weapon—your… _wand_—to you. Before we do so, however, we must have your word that you will not use it to escape, and you will not use it against anyone. If you agree to this, you are agreeing that you are still in our care, and we will not take it lightly if you break this promise."

"Yes, sir," the boy replied, and he had no way of knowing that all of the Masters were focusing on him, looking for any trace of a lie in his words—they found none. "I promise I won't do anything of the kind."

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It had been agreed that Harry's godfather would be looked for and Luke had immediately sent out two different teams of a Master and their apprentice, to be switched every half-day with two fresh teams. Then they had finished up with other requests and issues the Order was facing and then they were dismissed. Harry was waiting outside with Ben, who was very pleased that his idea had been approved, and hopeful that this would raise Harry's spirits.

"I just hope this isn't some wild goose-chase," Harry said quietly, not allowing his hope to grow too much. Considering _his_ luck, they'd never find Sirius.

"We'll try our hardest, Harry," Ben said, determined not to allow his companion to sink into melancholy. Harry had better things to do than simply sit around feeling sorry for himself, and Ben certainly was not going to stand for feeling all of that from him the entire time he was at home.

Once back at the Skywalker apartment, Luke sent Ben and Harry off to do some errands—he could sense that Ben would be a good thing for Harry's stating here, and hoped his son would make friends with the wayward boy. Then he turned to Mara.

"All right, my love," he said, "you had another reason to ask for Harry's training. What was it?"

She looked up at him with a mischievous look. "My, my, Skywalker," she said, "you're quite blunt today, aren't you? Yes, I had another reason," she added when he opened his mouth. "You've sensed how unsure of himself Harry is, how unconfident he feels. He doesn't really know who he is right now. I thought maybe his training and being sent out with our Jedi on missions later would help him discover who he is, and give him a confidence-boost. Force knows he can't face that Dark Lord after him like this."

"Hmm." Luke grinned at the face of his wife's argument. "Logical."

"I always am," she replied, putting on a very self-arrogant air as she said it—and then she laughed and they shared a quick kiss. "You were right, Skywalker—he just needs some help. The Force guided him to us for a reason."

"And you didn't say any of this to the Council… _why_, exactly?"

"I wanted to astound you with my wisdom."

"Mm-hm. I'm sure astounded."

"Watch it, farmboy. I may go full-blown "Jedi Master" on you."

00000000000

Something had shifted. She didn't know what, she didn't know how, but something had definitely shifted. The news had reported that Harry Potter was missing, and now there were rumors that You-Know-Who had killed him. It was only a matter of time before the Wizarding world would be attacked by the Death Eaters.

But something had changed. Harry Potter wasn't missing—he was_ gone_. Simply gone. She couldn't sense him like she had before, like she could somehow sense everyone else. No, Harry's presence was just missing from, it seemed, the fabric of the universe itself.

Or at least from_ this_ universe.

It was a troubling thought—and one she would keep to herself until she figured some of it out.

A/N: Anyone want to guess who it is I wrote there at the end?


	8. Chapter 8

"_**Chapter 8"**_

A/N: Sorry about the delay of this chapter, I swear it wasn't intentional! On with the show (and no snickering at the first sentence!)

00000000

It felt wonderful, gloriously so, to have his wand back in his hands. He had felt vulnerable without it, and he realized that that had made him even more edgy and nervous than usual, but now that he had it back some of that unease had eased. He tried to tell himself it was only because he had never _not_ had it with him before, but the truth was that there was still some part of him that did not trust these people who had taken him in.

He knew that most of them still didn't trust _him_.

"No!" the Jedi Kyp Durron exclaimed. "If you try to shift that way, you leave your whole right side vulnerable to your attacker!"

The Jedi stood before him in one of the training rooms of the Temple, instructing the young wizard in some forms of hand-to-hand combat because, as Master Skywalker had so aptly put it, "it was better to have a physical edge than nothing at all." Harry, however grudgingly, could see why. He had always wondered why several wizards didn't seem to care about being in shape, besides Aurors of course; what if they lost their wands during a fight?

But did that mean that he could have his butt handed to him by these Jedi to prove that point?

Breathing heavily, he glared hotly up at Master Durron from where he lay on the floor; this was the third time he had found himself dumped unceremoniously onto the floor of the training floor, and to be frank he was getting sick of it.

"Maybe if you actually showed me _how_ I wouldn't have trouble with it," he said through clenched teeth, and his hands were itching to curse the Jedi Master silly. His temper was rising, and he knew that that probably wouldn't be a good thing for any more upcoming fights.

Master Durron looked down at him coolly. "Experience is the best teacher, kid," was all he said.

And that was what made Harry's temper snap. He was being called a _kid_? He clambered to his feet, ignoring his aching muscles and heavy lungs, and met the Jedi's gaze full-on. "Look, Master Durron," he said, trying not to be _too_ disrespectful, "this isn't teaching me _anything_, nothing at all. I know you've been the one appointed to teach me this, but that doesn't mean that you have the right to kick me around like this!"

A sharp upswing of the Jedi's fist was his only answer. Harry felt his adrenaline surge up, making him jump back with all the speed of an electrical shock, unprepared for the Jedi's quick attack; but even as his mind struggled to catch up, his body seemed to remember and as Master Durron again raised a closed fist his own arm came up to block, and then again and again. His feet, however, were not planted firmly and his momentum caused him to finally fall flat on his back again—but this time he had not been touched. Stunned, unable to quite understand what had happened, he looked up at the Jedi again, who raised a thoughtful eyebrow down at him, and a curious smirk spread across his face. Then Master Durron reached down and hauled him roughly to his feet, and they stood for a long moment at a stand-still.

"Not learning anything, huh?"

Harry flushed. "I- I don't—"

"Muscle memory, kid," the Jedi said, still smirking. "Your mind may not have picked up on it but your body sure did. Your brain's getting' in the way, making you think too much." He backed up a pace. "You did pretty good on that last try, though, except for your footwork."

Harry blinked at the compliment. He hadn't done that good, had he? The Jedi didn't allow him time to ponder it, though. Already the older man was settling himself into an offensive position.

"Come on. Time to work on your feet."

00000000

He met Ben walking down the hallway of the Temple after Master Durron had told him he could leave. Or limping, actually. It was a good limp, though, one that the Jedi Master had said he should feel proud about.

_-"You earned that limp, kid."_

He supposed he did, but he really didn't want to become black-and-blue every time he was taught something. Ben simply grinned seeing him but didn't say anything about it, although Harry did notice the redhead certainly walked slower than he usually did with him.

"I was just coming to see if you were close to being done with Kyp, actually," he was saying. "You wanna go check out some more of the lessons we have here?"

What Harry really wanted was to sit down but decided he'd humor Ben today, so he shrugged with a grin of his own and followed his companion through so many different passages and turns he wasn't sure if he would ever get them straight. But Ben didn't seem to have any trouble finding his way, and so Harry allowed his concerns to slide and simply looked around. The Temple looked large and beautiful, although he had to admit that he really wasn't an expert on buildings. But this place was stunning in a away, with high arching ceilings and tiled floors of a creamy white color inlaid with green and blue stone.

It looked new.

"What happened here, Ben?" he finally asked, unable to help his curiosity. "Why does this place look like it's been rebuilt?"

He wasn't expecting Ben to falter slightly, but he did. There was a very quick pause to his step that gave away his surprise of the question, and Harry thought he saw the teenager's eyes close off just a bit. After a long moment, however, he turned to Harry, and the graveness of his expression caught the young wizard off-guard.

"Because there was a war fought here, Harry," he said quietly. "About a decade ago. Our galaxy was invaded by an alien race who called themselves the Yuuzhan Vong. They were savage, arrogant, and completely dangerous—and from what the Jedi found, they were outside of the Force… like they didn't even exist. They invaded claiming that their gods had promised them victory here."

Ben sighed heavily. "So many people died in that war, Harry. We don't even have all the numbers added up yet but we know that they're in the billions. The Vong would tear up whole planets, reverse their ecosystems and kill anyone too young or too old to enslave. And they killed so many of us, as Jedi. We probably lost a fourth of our numbers in that war. My cousin Anakin. My uncle's best friend, Chewbacca. You met my cousin Jacen, right?"

Harry nodded.

"He'd been captured by the Vong at one point, tortured by them and enslaved. He actually developed something he calls a "Vongsense" where he could sense them and even communicate to the creatures the Vong had with them."

Harry blinked, stopping. "_Really?"_ He could remember how much Jacen had smiled and joked during his visit with Jaina at the Skywalker apartment, and he wouldn't have guessed that he had once been taken prisoner and tortured. But now that he thought about it, he recalled a quiet seriousness deep in the man's eyes that could not have been brought about except through a tragedy or bad experience.

Ben nodded. "I wouldn't joke about that. But he escaped with the help of Vergere, a Jedi Master who was a—well, I guess she was a double-agent, pretending to be on the side of the Yuuzhan Vong while really working from the inside. Don't worry about Jacen, he's okay now. Well, as okay as he can be. None of them have gotten over Chewie's or Anakin's deaths. I know they all have nightmares about the war still. And my dad was poisoned in the final battle so he still has trouble with that sometimes."

Footsteps coming down the hall caught their attention and ben stopped speaking as he turned. Harry raised an eyebrow. Well, speak of the devil… It was Jaina who came into view, dressed in the customary robes of a Jedi Master, her long brown hair tied into a long ponytail today. Seeing them, she nodded, but the slight coolness of her expression gave Harry the sneaking suspicion that she had overheard at least a little bit of their conversation.

"Jedi Skywalker," she said. "Mr. Potter."

Ben inclined his head respectfully. "Master Solo," he replied.

Jaina nodded and walked past them, but as she did so she looked at Harry, and again he thought she was sizing him up. Judging him. He bit down on the irritation he could feel building up again and forced himself to look away and not move until the sound of her footsteps faded again.

Ben grinned again. "Don't let Jaina intimidate you," he said. "She doesn't trust very easily. She's too much like Uncle Han sometimes."

Harry blew out a frustrated breath. "What did I ever do to her?"

Ben shrugged, but there was something far too sly in his gaze for Harry's liking. "You_ like_ her, don't you?" he said suggestively with a smirk.

"_What?_ No!" Harry shook his head violently, his mouth almost falling open with disbelief. "Why would I-?" Ben merely continued to grin at him, and finally he flushed. 'Well, I guess she's not bad-looking…"

Ben laughed at him all the way down the hallway.

A/N: I know this chapter was not really that long, but please don't hate me! I hope you all had a good Christmas and New Year, and I wish you luck in any resolutions you made. The next chapter will be coming whenever I find the interest, so it could be up from anytime tomorrow to… well, whenever.


	9. Chapter 9

"_**Chapter 9"**_

The loud bustle of a large group of people woke Harry up early the next morning long before he was ready to _be_ awake. Coruscant's sun was already high and its light shining through the cracks of the window shade, right into his face. Groaning, he turned over and burrowed deeper into his covers, trying to shut off its obnoxious brightness. He could do something about that, yes, but he found he couldn't do anything about the noise outside. Was it Jacen and Jaina again, visiting?

But as he listened with half-perked ears, he realized that there was not only Luke and Jacen's voices, but a third that he didn't recognize.

Damn his curiosity. He sat up in the bed in the guest bedroom and pulled himself to his feet, trying to rid his eyes of their drowsiness. He pulled on some decent clothes for guests and pulled the door open, walking barefooted on the carpet as he made his way to the living room.

Luke and Mara were there, standing by the couch. Ben was nowhere in sight, so Harry supposed he was still asleep. Standing with them were Jacen and Jaina, both dressed in normal clothing today, and to their rights were an older man and woman. The man was the one speaking, and his voice was a mix of humor and seriousness, tall and still thin despite his apparent age, with a lined but tan face and graying brown hair. Harry could see who Jacen clearly looked like. The woman beside him was nearly a foot shorter than him, with light greying-brown hair that she held up in a braid and fine, shapely features; she held herself high as well, something he saw that she was doing instinctively. He wondered if she was royalty of some sort if she held herself in such a way, like she had been taught to stand in such a way. Or maybe she was in the army, like Jaina seemed to be. It was clear that Jaina took after her mother in looks, although the former's still seemed a little softer and her eyes larger.

"—just came back yesterday," the woman was saying, letting go of Luke after an embrace. "We stopped by the Temple but Master Corran said that you were here."

Mara smirked. "We have to wait for our son to drag himself out of bed," she replied dryly.

"C'mon," the man spoke now; he slouched beside his wife and Harry saw that he had a gun strapped to his leg in a holster, "the kid needs to sleep in, catch up on his sleep. Force knows he's not getting to sleep in flying with the squadrons."

Luke snorted and the man met his gaze with a smirk of his own, the two of them sharing some well-remembered experience. Mara noticed.

"Leia, I think we'd better intervene before our husbands go off walking down memory lane."

The woman addressed as Leia nodded, but she was smiling. "You know how the two of them get talking about the Rebellion. Like a couple of grandfathers living the olden days again."

"Hey!" the man cried good-naturedly. "You callin' us _old_, Your Worship? Your hair's pretty grey now too, if you haven't noticed."

"With you as my husband I can't see why it wouldn't be," Leia retorted, but like her husband her tone held no spite. Luke hid a smile behind his hand and hastily turned a laugh into a cough.

Oddly enough it was Leia who noticed their eavesdropper. Whether it was from just feeling his eyes upon her or if she was using the Force, Harry couldn't say, but it didn't even really matter anyway. She saw him standing by the door and her eyes widened slightly in surprise, one fine eyebrow rising curiously.

"You didn't tell us you had a guest, Luke."

The Jedi Master dropped his hand and looked at her innocently. "We didn't want to interrupt your vacation at Corellia," he replied simply. "It was your first real vacation in…"

"Between the Yuuzhan Vong, Dark Jedi, and the Senate we haven't _had_ a real vacation," she sighed, nodding, but still her attention turned back to Harry. "But you still haven't answered my question, brother. It's not often you bring in strangers."

"He's hardly a stranger anymore," Mara smiled wryly, and motioned Harry over. "Security found him lost and confused down in the lower levels and brought us in when he fought them off."

Harry felt himself redden, and opened his mouth to say that Mara was exaggerating, but stopped under the sudden appraising gaze of the woman. He had the feeling that this was a woman you did not want to cross. He was inexplicitly reminded of Professor McGonagall, and the thought both calmed him and heightened his anxiety. She looked him up and down, slowly and carefully, and he thought he could see a certain level of dubiousness in her eyes, clearly wondering how a small young teenager like himself could fight against Coruscant security. The Man was looking at him with open admiration, as if fighting the law was something to be proud of.

"Harry," Luke said quietly, grinning, "this is my twin sister Leia Organa Solo and her husband Han Solo. Leia, Han—this is Harry Potter. And yes, Mara wasn't lying."

"But—"

"It's a long story, Leia. You'll want to sit down for it."

0000000

It seemed no time at all and everything was told. Harry sat between Mara and Luke, almost as if the two Jedi were afraid that he would get up and run away if he had the choice; Leia and Han sat across from them with Jacen and Jaina on individual settees merely listening to the story. Jacen, having not been there for the actual happenings, listened to everything as intently as his parents did, even if he had already heard it told once. Jaina sat with crossed legs and arms, careful to keep from looking at Harry, who had the irritating sense that she still didn't believe him.

Leia was looking between the two Skywalkers as if she wasn't sure to believe them either. But she simply sat quietly for a moment, clearly processing all that she had been told. Han sat slouched into the cushions of the sofa, a curious smirk on his face, but oddly enough he didn't seem to be disbelieving of what had just been explained.

Leia's first question, however, was unexpected.

"Have you looked for a way home?"

Harry straightened, unconsciously frowning; he hadn't really thought about finding a way home yet, what with everything going on already. Anyway, he was training with the Jedi now and that would undoubtedly take months—maybe even years.

"I think we're just making sure I can survive if I do get back right now," he said, a mite wryly, and Han's mouth twitched ever so slightly. Leia's brow rose again, but then she nodded slowly, deliberately, clearly mulling over his words and finding nothing to gainsay. She did look undeniably saddened, however, as she sat back. "Do teenagers have to fight for their lives and their freedom in _every universe_?" she asked rhetorically.

"There is a Darkness to every Light," Luke replied softly, ignoring the fact that she hadn't needed an answer.

Mara snorted. "Jedi Master talk, huh? Always philosophical and vague, and never getting anywhere with anything they say."

"And yet you're a Master too," Han replied with a smirk of his own.

"Sithspit."*

While Han and Jacen laughed at the red-haired woman's exclamation, Leia turned to Luke. "And you're busy looking for his godfather?"

"Yes."

"Any ideas where he is?"

Harry interjected. "Luke has several different teams of Jedi going out each day to search. Ben said that portals are precise so he's still on planet somewhere."

"Have you got Zekk checking the lower levels?"

Luke hesitated. "The lower levels have changed a lot since the Yuuzhan Vong invaded, Leia. I'm not sure if Zekk would be able to recognize them well anymore. Not to mention the several different creatures that still live down there."

Leia sighed. "I know. We're still receiving reports that citizens die almost every day from the poisons they're injected with." She saw Harry suddenly pale and could have cursed at her stupidity. "I'm sure your godfather is fine, Harry."

"Did you say godfather?"

Jacen's voice caused them all to look at him, and he almost recoiled from the several different sets of piercing looks cast his way. He rallied quickly, however, and looked back. "Harry," he began slowly, "you said your godfather was here somehow. Was he a taller man with grey eyes and long black hair?"

Harry almost gaped at him. "How did you-?"

"I think I met him on my travels."

"What?"

Jacen looked at him seriously. "It was about eight months ago. I was leaving the spaceport of one of the outer Rim planets when a man came up and asked for a lift. He seemed bedraggled and a little wild-eyed but sincere enough. He said he'd left Coruscant months before but needed to go back. I didn't ask any questions and only allowed him a ride. When we docked here he thanked me, I gave him some credits for food and clothes, and then he left. Said that if I needed anything I could find him. When I asked him why he was coming back to Coruscant he only said he felt he should."

"Did he give you his name?" Harry asked eagerly, almost jumping up from his seat. His whole countenance suddenly flared with excitement and there was a light in his eyes that had not been there before.

"Uhm..." Jacen frowned as he tried to remember, and the whole room seemed to hold its breath in preparation for his reply. Then his expression cleared.

"He told me it was 'Padfoot'."

* * *

A/N: Alright, so there's chapter 9. I'm _so sorry_ for the delay on this chapter; real life and it's drama got in the way and I knew that if I tried to write this it would come out dark and dreary and Harry would revert back to his "depressed" and brooding mode for a time, and I don't think anyone wants that! Between college, friends, and family drama, I couldn't focus on anything well until just this afternoon. I put in SW Episode VI and bam! I was suddenly feeling a lot better. Funny how that works, huh? Then I had to write this because I was in the mood.

*"Sithspit"—a SW word that literally means "shit".


	10. Chapter 10

"_**Chapter 10"**_

"So you're telling me that Jacen knew where and who your godfather was this _whole time_?" Ben's vice was a blend of disbelief, irritation, and elation. "This whole time, and he didn't _tell_ anyone?!"

"He didn't know, Ben," Harry replied patiently; he felt oddly touched that his new friend was so indignant on his behalf, but was mature enough to see Jacen's side as well. "Why would he have thought that Padfoot was my godfather, or would have any relation to me?" Jacen had apologized profusely for not realizing anything sooner but Harry had simply shrugged and waved the apology off, assuring him that everything was all right.

"Well, it would have saved us a lot of trouble," Ben grumbled good-naturedly. He and Harry sat on one of the benches in a training area outside the main building of the Temple, waiting for one of the Masters to come for Harry's training. Every week the several different Masters traded off to give the young wizard more and more experience with combat. Just the other day he had finished his training with Corran Horn, who he rather liked. Corran was soft-spoken and clearly more of a pacifistic man than several of the others, but that didn't keep him from driving Harry into the ground with exhaustion if he felt like it.

You had to respect a man like that.

It was a beautiful warm day, bright and lively, and the sun felt glorious, but seated there in peace, Harry felt a sudden wave of sadness wash over him. What was going on at home right now? Were they still looking for him in the Wizarding world or had they finally given up? Had Voldemort started his war against the Ministry?

Now that Harry had begun to recover from Voldemort's torture he felt angry and a little disgusted with himself. Why had he allowed himself to be beaten down so far, why had he not stood up to him when faced with the Veil? He had never allowed Voldemort to break him before so why had he then?

"If you had let him kill you then there wouldn't be any hope now," Ben remarked suddenly.

Harry sighed and looked over at him. "Are you reading my mind again?"

Ben gazed back indignantly. "I can't help it," he retorted, "what with you broadcasting your thoughts like that for anyone to see them."

"Okay, okay, sorry," Harry said hurriedly, wanting to keep things peaceful between them. They sat in a silence approaching awkward with both of them simply staring at nothing. Then: "I just don't like feeling like Voldemort won," he said angrily. "He _can't_ win."

"I know," Ben said, nodding. "But if you had actually died instead of going through the Veil there wouldn't be any chance to go back now."

"But I thought the Veil would kill me anyway!"

Ben shrugged. "Doesn't change the fact that it _didn't_. You still lived, you can still go back, and you can still kick that so-called "Dark Lord"'s ass from Tatooine and back."

Harry couldn't help but laugh but couldn't deny the simple logic of Ben's words. He wondered idly what his friends back in the Wizarding world would make of this smart-mouthed Jedi padawan who spoke the truth in the simplest and bluntest terms. Hermione would probably be scandalized and Ron would just laugh along.

Footsteps from the doorway caught both of the boys' attention and they looked over to find Luke himself striding over to meet them, dressed in a simple black tunic and trousers. Ben choked back a sympathetic laugh.

"Oh Force, you have Dad as a Master today," he whispered, clear humor lacing his tone. "I _do not_ envy you at all." He stood and Harry followed suit, and the former bowed when Luke stopped before them. "Master Skywalker," he said respectfully. "I'll leave you two now, will I?" Luke nodded silently, giving his son a small smile, and with a swift look at Harry Ben was off, leaving and through the door in record time. Harry swore he heard the retreating figure laugh once inside, though, and he frowned as he turned back to Luke.

There was something oddly distant in Luke's expression, almost like he was cutting himself off from emotion. Used to seeing the man otherwise made harry a little uneasy, but he stifled his anxiety and instead focused on the here and the now. He was engaged in a teacher-student lesson now.

Luke, however, remained silent, and instead slowly began to walk around him in a slow, deliberate circle. Harry had the feeling that he was being evaluated, and he suddenly negated the thought that Luke and Leia were nothing alike. Everything about the Jedi Master spoke poise and calm, and at almost intimidating levels.

"You feel inferior."

Harry blinked, taken aback. What had Luke just said? What was going on? He thought he was going to be instructed on something, not evaluated and talked down to! He met the man's eyes but the remote expression staring back at him told him nothing.

"You don't feel like you've done enough to save your world," Luke continued in that same soft tone. "You're afraid you have abandoned it to the Dark Lord who was after you. Do you know why you feel like that, Mr. Potter?" He suddenly stopped right in front of Harry, all movement so quickly stilled that the young wizard almost stepped back. "It's because you are," he continued with a cold smile. "You _feel_ inferior because you _are_ inferior."

Harry felt anger start to thrum in his stomach at those words. "What are you—"

"You feel like you can't save anyone. You're right. You can't even save yourself. Why should anyone place their hope in such a small, thin _boy_?"

The Jedi Master was sounding like Snape, demeaning and snide, something he had never heard from Luke before, and it was making him more than irritated—it was making him _angry_. Call him small and weak, would he?

"I don't feel inferior—" he ground out between clenched teeth.

"Then you're in denial. You have no control, you allowed your enemy to defeat you, you allowed everyone to walk over you. I wouldn't be surprised if your so-called friends only hung around you for the fame."

"My friends don't care about that—!" Harry began furiously, but again Luke caught him off.

"You're telling me that they never turned their backs on you? There was never a time when they left your side?"

Harry opened his mouth to say 'no', he really did—but then he remembered the Tournament in fourth year, and Ron had snubbed him for all those long months in his jealousy. And suddenly Harry found he couldn't say a word.

Luke nodded. "I thought as much. Poor boy—played by those professing to be his friends and you don't even realize it." His smile could have frozen water. "I'm wouldn't be surprised if your "wretched mutt of a godfather" was doing the same."

His final words snapped Harry's control, and with a strangled outcry of fury he lashed out, fully intending to hit the Jedi Master with everything he had—

But Luke was prepared for him and his reaction, and with lightning reflexes he was moving aside and catching Harry's fist and with a simple move he had flipped Harry flat onto his back on the padded floor; the young wizard landed with an undignified 'oomph!' with the air knocked out of him. Slightly stunned by the force of his fall, Harry stared up at the blue sky and wondered how he ended up in such a position. Luke crouched above him, and his expression was a mix of disapproval and rue.

"Control," he said simply. "It's the most important thing in a fight. If you give your enemy any clue that they can control your emotions then they have power over you."

Harry felt himself redden, feeling like an idiot. He had been played and had fallen for it easily. 'I'll remember that next time," he managed to say wryly.

Luke helped him up into a sitting position. "It takes a lot of practice," he continued. "You have to able to remember that what they say does not matter. They're only trying to hurt you with their words, looking for a hold on you." There was a definite rueful smile on his face now. "Trust me when I say that that is one of the most important things to remember. I didn't, and it almost cost us everything against the Emperor."

Harry pulled himself to his feet, nodding. "All right." He smiled self-consciously. "I feel like a fool."

Luke nodded. "A wise man once said, "Who's the more foolish? The fool or the fool who follows him?" I think if any of the padawans here take your example then we can be concerned."

And again Harry couldn't help but laugh, even if his backside and his pride were sore.

0000000

"Uncle Luke—"

Luke raised one eyebrow at his niece's protests, showing her that he was not to be moved on his decision.

She tried anyway. "I don't _want_ to train him, Uncle Luke!" she exclaimed furiously, her brown eyes flashing. "You have all of the other Masters there helping him out, why do you need me to?!"

He sighed. "Jaina, I'm asking you to do this for me because everyone else has taken their turns instructing him. It's time for you to do your part as well." She huffed and looked away, crossing her arms stubbornly across her chest. Knowing she was close to saying no, Luke gently cupped her chin in his fingers and turned her gaze back to his. "I know you don't like him—"

"He's immature and annoying—"

"Whatever you may think he is right now, Jaina, listen to me when I tell you that there will come a time when you'll be very thankful that he's here. Give him a chance, and give _yourself_ a chance. Harry's going to be here for a long time and it won't get any easier between the two of you if you don't take that step."

She sighed, her anger collapsing. "Fine," she sighed, giving in.

He smiled. "Good. I'm going to give you a couple of days to think about what you want to show him, all right? Show him something—_extraordinary_. Something he won't ever forget."

Jaina watched her uncle leave, still irritated but now thinking about what he'd said. Something extraordinary. Something Harry wouldn't forget. Whatever it was, it wouldn't be hand-to-hand combat or even shooting. It should be something that was right up her alley, something she felt strongly about..

And then it clicked, and she couldn't help but feel excited at the thought of what she could show him.


	11. Chapter 11

"_**Chapter 11"**_

A/N: For those who say that there are too many "emo" moments in this story, I am saying only this: the theme of this story was, and still is, self-discovery. Harry has to find out who he is as a person and a wizard before he can move on to defeating Voldemort, and that means a lot of "recycled", and sometimes brooding, arguments. He's moving on from what had happened now, you'll see a lot less of those arguments, but they'll still be there every once in a while because Harry, like any of us, _isn't perfect_.

For now, though, you'll just have to settle for finding Sirius in this chapter. Hope you enjoy!

0000000

Are you sure he's _here_?"

Mara looked dubiously at her nephew, who stood looking at the sign hanging above the building, the _Trooper's Gal._ It seemed little more than a pub, and a seedy one at that, full of loud, boisterous people and a band playing in the background that made them both wince.

Jacen shrugged. "This is where he'd likely be at," he replied, but there was a hesitancy to his voice that said that he was having second doubts. Personally, Mara didn't see how they'd find this mysterious Sirius Black here—there were millions of other places he could be—but she hoped she'd be wrong for Harry's sake.

She hated to say it, but she really didn't want the kid to spiral back to the moody, depressing storm-cloud he had been for so long (which he was finally acting less like every day). If he did she might just have to slap him, and that really wouldn't do well with Harry opening up and trusting them—besides, Skywalker really didn't support violence as a way to get over something. She just had to remind herself that if they couldn't find Sirius Black, Harry would be very disappointed.

"So Ben went back to the squadron," Jacen remarked as they approached the entrance.

"Yes. He didn't want to but he said he'd try to ask for leave."

"And he went because Jaina wanted his help with something," Jacen said with a grin.

Mara looked over at him in surprise. "Really? What for?"

But her nephew's grin merely widened. "Jaina said it's a surprise," he said mysteriously. "Something to do with Harry's training. And don't bother asking Uncle Luke about it because he doesn't know yet, either."

The bar was dimly lit and smelled heavily of smoke when they entered it—it was clearly a place where the dregs of society found refuge for illegal dealings. Mara wondered if this was the sort of place where Han had hung out in while on his own and made a mental note to ask him. Several people were dancing or lounging around tables, their voices loud and running together so that it was hard to think. Mara glanced at Jacen, then tugged her hood hiding her long red hair down lower and made her way through the crowd, looking for anyone who resembled Harry's missing godfather.

Jacen gripped her arm for a moment. "There," he said quietly, and motioned over to a table in the corner where a man sat nursing a drink by himself.

Mara nodded and walked over slowly. Even when she reached the table, the man did not move or even react to her presence. She frowned, having second thoughts.

"Padfoot?"

0000000

Luke made his way into his and Mara's apartments late that night, having been at the Jedi Temple, and breathed a sigh of relief knowing that he was finally done with the bustle of the day. He knew that Mara and Jacen were gone at the moment but where was—ah.

"Hello, Harry."

The said boy was seated on the couch, already dressed for sleep, and looking through a datapad. He had been looking through the history of the Old Republic and the Empire the past few weeks between lessons at the Temple and meeting new people, and seemed very close to starting the Rebellion. He liked to read, Luke had noticed; not obsessively, but enough, and he seemed almost childishly fascinated by the datapads and other technology that was all around him.

He looked up from the section he was reading and grinned tiredly. "Hello, Luke," he responded, and then went back to where he was reading.

Luke allowed himself to grin. Regular reader. He took off his overcoat and took a seat beside him, and for a long moment they simply sat in comfortable silence. Then:

"Luke?"

Surprised, the Jedi looked over to see Harry frowning down at the datapad. "Yes?"

"Um, I've been reading a lot about Palpatine and I've seen a lot of mentioning's of him being a "Sith Lord". What it that?"

Luke frowned. "Well, that's, uh—that's actually a difficult thing to explain. A Sith Lord is like a corrupt version of a Jedi. We as Jedi draw from the Light Side of the Force using peace. Sith draw from the Dark, drawing their powers from anger and aggression."

Harry was silent for a long moment. Finally, however, he nodded slowly. "Like Voldemort, I guess," he said. "He seems to do the same thing. He certainly derives a lot of enjoyment from other people's suffering," he continued bitterly.

"Enough of that," Luke scolded him lightly. "What's done is done. You can only focus on the here and the now. You can lose yourself in the past if you're not careful." He leaned a little closer to the young wizard, who was looking over at him in confusion. "Keeping all this bitterness to yourself and hoarding it forever doesn't solve anything. It only makes you more miserable. And who knows—maybe someday you'll be able to even forgive this Voldemort for what he's done to you."

Harry snorted. "Fat chance of that," he replied.

Luke nodded. "It may seem so now," he agreed. "Just keep an open mind about people. And about yourself."

"Harry."

Mara's voice caused them both to jump and turn around. She was standing in the doorway, hr long red hair falling down her back, and she was smiling widely. Harry stood, realizing what that smile meant, and for the first time wild hope lit up his face.

"You found him?" he breathed.

Mara moved aside in answer, revealing a tall, black-haired man with grey eyes and a wide, relieved smile that lit up his haggard, once-handsome face.

They moved at the same time, godfather and godson, and so quickly that neither Skywalker was sure how they managed to get to the middle of the room in such a short amount of time. Before either Luke or Mara could quite believe it, they were witness to the biggest bear hug Coruscant had ever seen.

"Pup!" Sirius pulled back from his godson, an ear-splitting grin on his face. "I couldn't believe it when I was told that you were here—how did you—I mean, how-?"

But Harry shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he said, swallowing down a hard lump in his throat. "It—it just matters that you're found, so we don't have to worry about that." He tried to settle his tongue but wasn't able to and he finally spoke aloud his biggest regret. "Sirius, I'm sorry! The Ministry and the battle—god, how could I have been so _stupid_? Voldemort knew I'd go if you were there, I was thick enough to fall for it and it got—" he stumbled on the next words, "it got you killed."

"Whoa, hold it, Harry!" Sirius interrupted, his grin fading into a frown of concern as his godson fought back tears. "I'm right here. I'm still in one piece. I don't know what happened, all I remember is Bellatrix hitting me with that jinx and falling through that veil and I found myself here—wherever the hell _here_ is."

"Coruscant," Harry replied, still struggling to keep from making a fool of himself. "It's Coruscant, this place. I was found by this couple, Sirius," and he motioned to the Skywalkers, who walked forward. "This is Luke and Mara Skywalker."

The black-haired man greeted them with a nod and shook Luke's hand warily. "Mara and I met already," he explained uselessly.

Luke looked over at his wife with a sly smirk. "Been introducing yourself as "Mara" now?" he asked. "No "I'm _Mrs._ Skywalker?"

Mara rolled her eyes but still smiled. Sirius chuckled and Harry hid a grin. "Wouldn't you like to know, Skywalker," she replied.

Sirius looked at them carefully, sizing them up. "You've been good to him?" he asked, and it seemed almost a challenge.

"Perfectly, Sirius," Harry said. "As a matter of fact it was Luke and Mara's son who suggested that you were here somewhere."

"Wait," Sirius said; his face had darkened. "Hold on, Harry, I just realized—I got here by going through the veil. But if you're here, too—what_ happened_? How'd you get here?"

Harry reluctantly told him of his capture and Voldemort's giving him the choice of dying, and of his decision to go through the veil. Sirius collapsed onto the couch, very pale.

"So—in our world we're both dead," he said after a long moment.

Harry nodded wearily, glancing over at Luke and Mara for a moment before turning back to his godfather. "Yeah, I suppose we are. And yes, before you ask, Sirius, I'm okay now."

"Good," Sirius said faintly.

Harry hesitated for a moment, shifted from one foot to the other. "Sirius, I need to find out if there's some way to get back. I can't just let Voldemort gain power."

"I agree." Sirius stood again, ignoring Harry's taken aback look. He brushed his hair away from his face, looking every inch his name. "Who knows? Maybe we'll be able to get back."

Harry grinned slightly. "I hope so. I need to try."

And standing beside Luke, Mara looked over at her husband, and from the small, pleased smile on his face, she knew he was thinking the same thing she was: _There you go, kid._

Keep you focus on that and keep on going.

0000000

"Hello, Hedwig."

The snowy white owl merely blinked her large amber eyes, but she was listening. Owls were, after all, very intelligent creatures.

"I know you miss Harry Potter. Do you suppose we can find him if we work together?"

Again the owl merely blinked, but she stretched her wings out as if shrugging.

"I'll take that as a yes, then."


	12. Chapter 12

"_**Chapter 12"**_

A/N: I am not impressed by whoever is leaving reviews saying this story is "emo crap". If you dislike this story so much, then you don't have to read it. I have already given my explanation for the way this story is going, so I do _not_ need to go into it again.

This chapter will pick up the pace a little, and then next chapter I think I'll finally reveal who it is who's looking for Harry (if you haven't already guessed!)

Enjoy!

0000000

"Hey, Potter!"

The familiar voice made Harry turn as he walked down the hall of the Temple, and he frowned when seeing who it was.

"Jaina."

What was she wanting? If it was up to her, she probably wouldn't do so much as look at him. Personally, he didn't see what he had done to make her dislike him so much, but he really didn't want to get into an argument or another discussion about himself. He'd already had enough of those.

She stopped beside him and crossed her arms. "I've been needing to talk to you," she said—she wasn't even panting from her run. "Uncle Luke said he wanted me to help with your training, right?"

He nodded. "Yes," he said slowly, warily.

She smirked as if sensing his unease. "Relax, kid," she said. "If I wanted to punch you or lay you out on the floor I would have already done that." The scary thing was that he could see her doing it, too. "I just need to tell you to meet me and Ben at Docking Bay 21 after you're done here." Docking Bay 21 was where the squadron both the cousins were on stayed when they weren't on leave.

"Okay." He left it at that, not sure what to make of this sudden development.

"We'll knock you clean off your feet by the end of the day," Jaina said, and her smirk deepened. "You'll never have another experience like this after you're done."

"And what does that mean?"

"Let's just say that there are some fighter pilots who just can't handle being grounded after they've been to the stars," she replied mysteriously, and then she turned and was gone around the corner before he could even open his mouth. He blinked, thrown by this turn of events. But then he shook himself and, after a moment of hesitating, continued on his way.

0000000

"So you've built all of this after the Empire destroyed the Jedi?"

Sirius looked in interest at the Temple, where he stood with Luke, who nodded. "Yes. With no small amount of hard work and a lot of mistakes along the way."

"You look to be doing fine to me."

"That's—because it's been nearly forty years!" Harry called across the courtyard; he and Kyp Durron were sparring together. He dodged the Jedi's well-aimed fist and responded with a sweeping kick to the legs, which Kyp lithely leaped over. The two of them were getting into it, Sirius noted with amusement; both had equally competitive looks on their faces, grins that bespoke their excitement and the promise of defeat. They had been sparring like this for the past twenty minutes with only a short break, and by now both of them were drenched with sweat due to the heat of the day and the amount of moving they were going through.

Sirius watched his godson fondly. It had now been a week since his being reunited with Harry, and it seemed already that something had changed in the fifteen-year-old; he wasn't so dragged down. It seemed that his being found had worked wonders—and, he suspected, there was also the fact that now they had decided on a course of action. They would look for a way home, whether through the same portal or some other way, but they _would_ look. And sometimes simply knowing there was a plan to follow could be just as much of an inspiration as actually doing something was.

"Less talking and more paying attention!" Kyp barked, springing back a foot and readying himself. For a moment, he and Harry merely bounced lightly from foot to foot, as if looking for an opening, and then he leaped into action. Harry deflected his fist and responded with his own, raising his other arm to protect his face from Kyp's counter.

"Yes, oh Almighty One!" his godson responded with a cheeky grin.

"It has been forty years," Luke agreed, nodding at Harry's words. "Long, difficult forty years—but worth it. The Jedi's numbers are climbing again. The Empire couldn't wipe us all away."

"They tried!" came Harry's reply again, and Sirius laughed.

Luke looked over at the young wizard. "How far have you gotten in that history section anyway? He's been reading through the history of the Republic and the Empire and now the Rebellion," he explained in response to Sirius's confused look. "He seems interested enough in reading about it."

A thud and a muted grunt made them both look over to see Kyp standing over Harry, who was sprawled unceremoniously on the ground.

"That's why you don't talk and pay more attention," Kyp said with a triumphant smirk. Nevertheless he reached out a hand and helped pull the wizard to his feet, who smiled ruefully.

"I'll beat you eventually, you know that, right?"

"Oh yes, I'm sure my days are numbered," Kyp retorted good-naturedly. He pushed Harry away from him with a laugh. "Go wash all that sweat off you, kid. Can't have you smelling the rest of the day."

"Not to meet Jaina," Sirius said in a sing-song voice, and was rewarded with Harry flushing.

"There's nothing between us, I hope you know, Sirius."

"Sure there isn't, pup."

"He's doing a lot better," Kyp remarked as he sat down beside Sirius, watching  
Harry leave. He swept his wet bangs out of his eyes and nodded in satisfaction. "The first time I tried to teach him something he ended up falling flat on his back."

"He's learning poise," Luke agreed, nodding. "Control."

"It'll help when he's learning more spell-work," Sirius added. "One of the things Aurors have to learn is poise. Wand-dueling isn't just standing there waving your wand," he said a little defensively when Luke and Kyp both turned to look at him. "We do move around a lot."

Kyp frowned to himself as if trying to figure out why you would have to move around. Luke merely nodded.

0000000

"Okay, so what do you want to show me?"

Jaina looked down at him from where she was perched on the side of an X-wing's cockpit. "I want to show you how to run one of these things, of course," she retorted. Standing beside Harry, Ben hid a grin—sometimes his cousin's attitude made him laugh. "If you're going to be here for a while then you should know how to fly, and since X-wings are one of the easiest one-man ships we have, you'll be learning in this."

Harry looked over at Ben. "Am I—allowed?"

"You'll need a flying permit," the redhead replied. "But you won't actually be flying today, so you don't have to worry about that. Jaina just wants to show you the different instruments you need to know to fly. You'll be fine."

Flying! Harry hadn't even thought about flying in this world, but now that he had the chance he couldn't help but feel excited. Sure, it wouldn't be like riding a broomstick but it was still flying!

He grinned. "You won't hear me complaining."

0000000

She was searching for Harry Potter daily, combing through the fabric of the universe just in case she had somehow missed him. She wasn't entirely sure how she could sense all the people around her like she did, but it was helping her now—and it was helping her realize that the one she looked for simply wasn't there.

"You don't suppose he's not in this universe anymore, do you, Hedwig?"

The owl ruffled her snowy-white feathers in answer, almost as if she were saying, _How should I know?_

"Well, familars can sense their masters, can't they?"

Hedwig blinked, then clicked her beak.

"Of course they can! Don't be silly, Hedwig." She knew that Harry Potter's owl was the key, she could sense it, but there was a piece of this puzzle missing, one final thread that needed to be added to keep the tapestry from falling apart. She just didn't know what that thread was yet. But she was close. Every day she looked through the fabric and every day she seemed closer and closer to one specific spot, a soft, warm presence that she couldn't quite reach.

But if she reached that one specific presence, she just knew that she'd have that missing clue. So all the while she reached out and plucked through the strings of the universe with one single name echoing through time and space.

_Harry Potter…_


	13. Chapter 13

"_**Chapter 13"**_

"Damn!"

Harry's exclamation made Sirius look up from where he was watching the holo, surprised. His godson rarely ever cursed, and if he did it was usually only in the most extreme circumstances. But now, he saw Harry stumble through the door, with Ben standing behind him, and both had equally wide, goofy grins on their faces. He realized his godson had tripped while entering, but that still didn't explain the cursing…

"Hey, Sirius!" Harry said, and when he stopped he nearly fell over again. Ben broke into snickers and had to brace himself against the wall. "Fancy meeting you here, huh?"

Sirius blinked, then a familiar smell caught his attention. He stood, astonished. "Merlin, Harry, are you _drunk_?"

"No!" Ben said—Harry was busy steadying himself—but his easy smile spoke otherwise. "Well, maybe pleasantly soused, but it's not bad—or, wait, maybe we did have—how many drinks did we have?"

"Lost count at six," Harry replied.

"Dear Merlin," Sirius muttered. "And what were you two doing out getting drunk?"

"Celebrating," came the reply. Harry swayed again and this time Sirius caught his arm. "I can fly, Sirius! Jaina's showed me how."

"Good to know," Sirius muttered. He felt at a loss. He wasn't sure what to do with two teenagers who were clearly more than "pleasantly soused".

"Ben!"

Mara's shocked voice caught his attention and he turned to find the redhead standing in the hallway, her eyes wide with surprise—although they quickly narrowed with anger. Ben cowered behind the door. Unfortunately his balance was off and he tripped and fell with a heavy thud onto the floor. _"Ow!"_

Harry burst out laughing.

"Oh, for Force's sake!" Mara exclaimed, and with a glare she stalked over to her giggling son, who looked up at her with a widening grin.

"I think the room's spinning, Mom," he said through a slur. "My fault!"

"Ben Skywalker," Mara growled, and she looked more than angry now. "Force help you tomorrow morning. I am going to kick your butt from here to Tatooine and back. Don't come complaining to me about the hangover you're going to have!" She bent and slung Ben's limp arm over her shoulders and heaved him to his feet. She looked over at Sirius and motioned for him to follow. "Bring him along, too." She practically dragged Ben down the hall to his room, with Sirius following after keeping a firm hand on Harry's arm, who was still laughing to himself. Mara dumped her son on his bed and took his boots off and slung his jacket over a chair; Sirius Summoned a bucket and handed it to her, and she placed it beside the bed. "We'll talk in the morning," she warned Ben, but he had already started to drift off, the alcohol he'd consumed finally catching up to him.

She then took charge of Harry, while Sirius watched. Mara wrinkled her nose at the heavy smell on his clothes. "What did you two _drink_?" she muttered to herself, and did the same thing to Harry that she'd done to Ben.

"You know you look a lot like my mum?" Harry suddenly asked, and Sirius froze from where he stood. Mara's hands stopped just as they were removing his jacket, but to the man's amazement she showed nothing in her face or actions, only allowed Harry to ramble. "She had red hair and green eyes too—but her hair was darker. I know how she died, too. I remember it."

Now Mara did stop, and even turned half away from him Sirius could see the horror on her face as she stiffened; he could understand, because he was just as horrified.

"That's impossible, pup," he whispered hoarsely, feeling his stomach clench. "You couldn't know, you were only one."

"I could when the dementors showed up."

Oh.

Sirius swallowed hard and, slowly, walked up to his godson's side, feeling his stomach twist painfully. Gently he ran his fingers through Harry's bangs, awkwardly, but the action was genuine. "Just sleep, pup. We'll talk in the morning."

When he and Mara finally left, he could see the redhead was still shocked. "I didn't know," she whispered, very white in the face. "Remembering his mother—" But then she merely shook her head as if speaking aloud was just too difficult. And Sirius remembered that Mara was a mother herself.

And that put a whole different twist to that.

0000000

"You know that you won't find any pity from me," Jaina stated. She stood dressed in her flight suit, hanging onto the ladder that led up to the X-wing's cockpit, looking down at Harry and Ben. There was just the hint of a smirk on her face that said that she found their situation amusing. "If you two were dumb enough to drink yourself silly the other day then it's your problem."

"I'll never get drunk again," Harry muttered, and Ben nodded passionately. It had been two days since the night the two of them had stumbled home soused, and they still could swear that their heads hurt from the resulting hangover. They had received no sympathy from either Luke or Mara, or Sirius, and Ben had been banned from going anywhere but the Temple for a week. Harry had been promised a punishment as well, but it was up to Sirius and so far he hadn't said anything about it.

"Are you going to get up here or not, rookie?" Jaina asked impatiently. "You're all ready to go, you got your flight permit and everything."

"Yeah, I'm coming."

Ben grinned, his blue eyes bright with excitement. "You'll never want to leave the ship again, just so you know," he warned him. "The sky's the limit."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said, then climbed up the ladder and swung into the cockpit. Jaina checked his crash webbing and instruments just as a precaution, then handed him his helmet.

"Just remember that you can't just sit and gawk," she said, "Me and Ben and the others will be listening in so if you need anything we'll answer." And then she was gone.

Harry felt his hands trembling with excitement as he closed the cockpit and started the X-wing up. The instruments were fairly simple to understand, and he had grasped the basic flying quickly, and even Jaina had said that he was ready to actually take to space. So here he was, sitting in the cockpit of a ship, ready to _fly in space_. It felt almost unreal.

He left the bay and shot out into the atmosphere of Coruscant, and he couldn't help but breath sharply feeling the way it felt.

"_Everything all right?"_ His comm crackled with static but he could clearly hear Jaina through it.

"Perfectly fine," he answered, and hurried his speed, shooting away from the planet below. He pushed the X-wing faster, his sense of excitement pounding through him as he left his trepidation far behind, desperate to get past the large cruiser beside him; he instinctively knew that the sight beyond would be beyond indescribable. The cruiser was finally beside him, he was racing beyond it—

Into the most tranquil, breathtaking sight he had ever seen. Stretched out in front of him was a vast expanse of black sprinkled by white or blue stars; the sun of Coruscant loomed vast and blindingly bright to his right, cradled in a veil of what looked like mist. Even as Harry sat awestruck in the cockpit of the X-wing, an ear-splitting grin spread across his face as he realized what he was looking at- this was _freedom_. The only thing preventing him from seeing it all was time and distance. He felt goose-bumps erupt down his arms at the beauty before him, and he began to laugh, a full-throated laugh that came straight from his heart. This was way better than flying on a broomstick. He couldn't stop laughing, his awe and excitement pounding through him as if they were his blood.

Standing in the comm room, hundreds of miles below, the Skywalkers, Jaina, and Sirius smiled at each other at the sound of his laughter.

"I think we have to thank you, Jaina," Sirius said happily, a wide grin of his own on his face. "This was just what he needed. Nothing a good fly won't cure."

"I thought so," Jaina said with satisfaction, a small smile on her face. "I could tell that he was a flier when he heard about the X-wings—his eyes lit up. He flies at home?"

"Yeah," Sirius nodded. "But he's never been to space."

"_I'm never coming back down!"_ they heard Harry shout over the comm.

0000000

There was something strange Luke was feeling in the Force. It had been first just a small tingling in the back of his mind that had started a few days before. But now the tingling had grown to a ripple that reached through the Force, and although he tried to reach it he couldn't; it confused him. What was it that he was sensing? A Force-user somewhere? Or was it the Force itself, trying to tell him something?

He sat in meditation in his deeper chamber in the Temple, so immersed in the Force he barely seemed to breathe. All of his concentration was focused on that strange presence, determined to reach it. He could feel the energy of the Force spread out around him like an intricate web that hummed and flowed and ebbed throughout everything in the universe, wrapping around him like a cloak. He carefully combed through each thread, having the strangest thought that he needed to slip through them like a door in order to reach whatever it was.

_Who are you?_ he called out, and he received no answer; but it seemed to him like the presence _sharpened_, as if whatever it was had finally sensed him. He continued to reach out, and thought that the stranger was doing the same—

And abruptly he slipped through the threads, and suddenly he was flooded with a calm, silvery presence, of peace and hope; he caught the glimpse of long blonde hair and bright grey eyes, and suddenly he could hear a girl's high voice echoing in his very soul through the Force.

_Harry Potter…_

And Luke broke the connection between them so quickly he nearly stumbled, his astonishment so strong he was speechless. Then he stood and sprinted from the room, calling out even before he even reached his outer office.

"_Harry!"_

0000000

_Finally_ she had reached him. The man really did have a beautiful presence, whoever he was. It was too bad she had not gotten his name before he disappeared again. Luna hummed to herself and turned to Hedwig, pleased.

"I've found the key, Hedwig."

There wasn't anything too bad about losing contact with the man, she knew. Now that they had actually reached each other the door was fully open and they could easily find each other again. And she knew he would be back—he had, after all, responded to her calls for Harry Potter, which meant that the stranger must know him.

Yes, he'd be back, and finally she would be able to decide exactly what she should do.

It was only a matter of time, after all, because Harry Potter was _alive_.


End file.
